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l/n^ 


GENERAL 

HISTORY  OF  CIVILIZATION 

IN 

EUROPE, 

|Bp9f. 

THE  FALL  OF  THE  ROMAN  EMPIRE  TO  THE  FRENCH 
REVOLUTION. 

BY    M.    GUIZOT, 

PROFESSOR  op  history  is  the  faculty  of  literature  at  faris, 

AND  MINISTER  OF  PUBLIC  INSTRUCTION. 


HOmi    AMERICAN,    FROM    THE    SECOND    ENGLISH    EDITION, 
WITH    OCCASIONAL    NOTES, 

BY  C.  S.  HENRY,  D.  D., 

PROFESSOR  OF  PHILOSOPHY  AND  HISTORY  EN  THE   UNIVERSITY  OF 
THE  CITY  OF  NEW  YORK. 


NEW    YORK: 
D.     APPLETON    AND    COMPANY, 

549    &    551    BROADWAY. 
1876. 


C67 

\  &7k 


bjchic:   *>*,9T 


EDUCATION  BEPT. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S42, 

Et  D.  APPLETON  &  CO., 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Conrt  of  the  United  States 

for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


P  It  EFAC  K 

TO    THE 

THIRD   AMERICAN  EDITION. 


The  adoption  of  this  work  as  a  text-book  by  numerous  i:i 
stttutions,  and  the  demand  for  a  third  edition  within  so  short  a 
period,  indicate  the  favorable  estimation  in  which  it  is  held  in 
this  country.  f 

In  complying  with  the  request  of  the  publishers  to  superin- 
tend the  present  edition,  the  editor  has  seen  fit  to  add  a  few 
notes,  which,  if  of  no  value  to  the  accomplished  historical 
scholar,  may  perhaps  be  of  some  use  to  the  younger  student. 
He  takes  this  occasion  to  offer  a  few  observations  on  the 
study  of  history,  and  on  the  use  which  he  conceives  may  be 
made  of  works  like  the  present. 

The  study  of  history  is  a  necessary  part  of  a  thorough  edu- 
cation. Aside  from  its  more  immediate  practical  advantages 
a  full  and  familiar  knowledge  of  history  is  requisite  to  the 
most  liberal  cultivation  of  the  mind.  Accordingly,  the  study 
of  history  has  always  hid  a  place  in  the  course  of  instruction 
pursued  in  our  higher  institutions. 

Precisely  here,  however,  lies  a  serious  difficulty.  History 
is  not,  like  many  of  the  other  studies  prescribed  in  such  a 
OOOMe,  a  science  whose  leading  principles  can  be  systemati- 
cally exhibited  within  a  moderate  compass,  and  of  which  a 
complete  elementary  knowledge  can  be  imparted  within  a 
limited  time.  There  is,  properly  speaking,  no  short  road  to 
a  competent  knowledge  of  history.    For  anv  valuable  purpose 

M69843 


6  PItEFACE. 

there  is  really  no  such  thing  as  an  elementary  study  of  history. 
It  is  not  worth  while  to  study  it  at  all,  unless  it  be  thoroughly 
studied.  A  thorough  knowledge  of  it  cannot,  however,  be 
imparted  in  the  lecture  room ;  it  must  be  acquired  by  the 
student  himself  in  the  solitary  labor  of  the  closet.  The  most 
accomplished  instructer  can  do  nothing  more  than  to  assist 
him  in  pursuing  his  investigations  for  himself.  He  must 
study  special  histories.  He  must  carefully  examine  the  best 
sources, — if  possible,  the  original  sources.  He  must  make 
himself  familiar  with  the  details — at  least  o^  all  the  most 
important  portions — of  the  history  of  the  world  This  is  the 
work  of  years. 

It  is  obvious,  therefore,  that  a  thorough  knowledge  of  his 
tory  can  never  be  acquired  in  the  time  allowed  for  its  studj 
in  the  usual  course  of  public  instruction.  The  same  thing 
may  perhaps  be  said  to  hold  true  of  other  studies.  To  a  cer- 
tain extent  it  does.  Still,  in  regard  to  most  of  the  othei 
studies,  more  can  be  done  within  the  allotted  time  towards  ac- 
quiring a  competent  knowledge  of  them,  than  can  be  done  in 
regard  to  history.  A  good  foundation  may  be  laid  ;  a  suc- 
cessful beginning  may  be  made.  In  respect  to  rrstory  it  is 
far  more  difficult. 

In  wnat  way,  therefore,  to  occupy  the  time  allotted  to  his- 
tory to  the  best  advantage,  is  a  perplexing  problem. 

To  devote  the  whole  period  to  the  study  of  some  compena 
uf  universal  history,  containing  a  summary  or  abridgment  of 
all  the  special  histories  of  the  world,  is  a  very  common 
method.  Yet  such  works,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  can  be 
out  little  more  to  the  young  student  than  a  barren  mass  of 
dates,  names,  and  dead  facts.  We  might  as  well  expect  to 
gain  a  correct  and  lively  impression  of  the  form,  features,  and 
expression  of  a  living  man  from  the  contemplation  of  the  hu- 
man skeleton,  as  to  acquire  a  true  knowledge  of  history 
from  such  abridgments  alone.  "  Abridgments,"  as  Professoi 
Smyth  well  remarks,  u.  have  their  use,  but  to  read  them  as  a 


PREFACE.  7 

summary  method  of  acquiring  historical  knowledge,  is 
rot  their  use,  nor  can  be.  When  the  detail  is  tolerably  known, 
the  summary  can  then  be  understood,  but  not  before.  Sum- 
maries may  always  serve  most  usefully  to  revive  the  know- 
ledge which  has  been  before  acquired,  may  throw  it  into 
proper  shapes  and  proportions,  and  leave  it  in  this  state  upon 
the  memory,  to  supply  the  materials  of  subsequent  reflection. 
But  general  histories,  if  they  are  read  first,  and  before  the 
particular  history  is  known,  are  a  sort  of  chain,  of  which  the 
links  seem  not  connected;  contain  representations  and  state 
ments,  which  cannot  be  understood,  and  therefore  cannot  be 
remembered  ;  and  exhibit  to  the  mind  a  succession  of  objects 
uid  images,  each  of  which  appears  and  retires  too  rapidly  to 
be  surveyed ;  and,  when  the  whole  vision  has  passed  by,  as 
boon  it  does,  a  trace  of  it  is  scarcely  found  to  remain.  \Veie 
I  to  look  from  an  eminence  over  a  country  which  I  had  never 
before  seen,  I  should  discover  only  the  principal  objects ;  the 
villa,  the  stream,  the  lawn,  or  the  wood.  But  if  the  landscape 
before  me  had  been  the  scene  of  my  childhood,  or  lately  of 
my  residence,  every  object  would  bring  along  with  it  all  its 
attendant  associations,  and  the  picture  that  was  presented  to 
the  eye  would  be  the  least  part  of  the  impression  that  was 
received  by  the  mind.  Such  is  the  difference  between  read- 
ing general  histories  before,  or  after,  the  particular  histories 
to  which  they  refer." 

I  must  not,  indeed,  omit  to  observe,"  continues  the  same 
writer,  "  that  there  are  some  parts  of  history  so  obscure  and 
of  so  little  importance,  that  general  accounts  of  them  are 
all  that  can  eithei  be  expected  or  acquired.  Abridgments  and 
general  histories  must  here  be  used.  Not  that  much  can  oe 
bus  received,  but  that  much  is  not  wanted,  and  that  wh&t 
little  is  necessary  may  be  thus  obtained. 

M  must  also  confess  that  general  histcnes  may  in  like 
manner  be  resorted  to,  for  the  purpose  of  acquiring  a  general 
rwnirii  or  the  groat  lending  features  of  any  particular  history  ; 


8  PREFACE. 

they  may  be  to  the  student  what  maps  are  to  the  travtller, 
and  give  an  idea  of  the  nature  of  the  country,  and  of  the  mag 
nitude  and  situation  of  tne  towns  through  which  he  is  to  pass ; 
they  may  teach  him  what  he  is  to  expect,  and  at  what  points 
he  is  to  be  the  most  diligent  in  his  inquiries. 

"Viewed  in  this  light,  general  histories  may  be  considered 
*d  of  great  importance,  and  that  even  before  the  perusal  of 
the  particular  histories  to  which  they  refer  ;  but  they  must 
never  be  resorted  to  except  in  the  instances,  and  for  the  pur 
poses  just  mentioned  ; — they  must  not  be  read  as  substitutes 
for  more  minute  and  regular  histories,  nor  as  short  methods  of 
quiring  knowledge."* 

While,  therefore,  the  time  devoted  to  history  in  our  usual 
course  of  public  instruction  may  not  be  altogether  lost,  even 
if  wholly  employed  in  the  study  of  some  general  compendium 
there  is  yet  great  danger  that  its  fruit  will  be  merely  the  mc* 
chanical  acquisition  of  a  mass  of  dead  facts,  soon  forgotten. 

The  zealous  teacher  will  naturally  feel  a  strong  desire  to 
lead  his  pupils  to  a  more  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
living  spirit  of  history,  the  true  meaning  and  significance  of 
its  mere  facts.  In  this  view  resort  is  often  had  to  such  works 
as  this  of  Guizot  and  others,  which  treat  of  what  is  called 
the  -philosophy  of  history.  But  in  such  works  a  knowledge 
of  the  facts  which  are  made  the  basis  of  generalization  and 
reflection,  is  almost  wholly  presumed  ;  while  the  young  stu- 
dent, from  ignorance  of  the  details  of  history,  or  a  too  sligh: 
acquaintance  with  them,  may  not  be  in  a  condition  to  under- 
stand, much  less  to  judge  for  himself  of  the  force  and  justness 
of,  the  general  views  presented  to  him, — at  all  events,  is  ex- 
posed to  the  danger  of  getting  the  habit  of  too  easily  taking 
upon  trust,  of  acquiescence  without  insight.  Against  all  these 
dangers  the  faithful  teacher  must  do  his  best  to  protect  the 
student.     The  most  proper  time  to  study  such  works  is  un- 

*  Smyth's  Lectures  on  Modern  History,  vol.  I.  p.  6. — Am.  eU. 


PKEFAiF.  0 

Inubiediy  when  a  thorough  historical  knowledge  of  tho  facte 
upon  which  they  rest  is  acquired.  Somo  one  such  work  may 
however,  under  the  guidance  of  a  competent  teacher,  bo  read 
with  benefit  by  the  young  student.  Even  if  there  be  some 
things  which  he  cannot  adequately  appreciate  till  he  shall 
have  gained  a  more  minute  knowledge  of  the  historical  de- 
tails ;  even  if  there  be  some  things  which  for  the  present  ho 
must  leave  unsettled  or  take  upon  trust, — he  will  still  gain  the 
advantage  of  having  his  attention  directed  to  the  great  prob- 
lems which  history  presents  for  solution  ;  he  will  form  an 
.  lea  of  what  is  meant  by  the  most  general  spirit  of  history ; 
he  will  have  learned  that  the  mere  external  events  of  history 
are  worthy  of  record  only  as  significant  of  the  moral  spirit  of 
humanity ;  and  he  will  be  guided  in  his  future  study  of  the 
facts  and  details  of  special  histories  by  a  more  determinate 
aim,  and  a  more  enlightened  interest. 

At  the  same  time  it  is  extremely  desirable  that  the  student 
should  in  the  course  of  his  elementary  education  be  led  to 
accomplish  thoroughly  some  portion,  however  small,  of  the 
great  task  of  the  historical  scholar ;  that  some  epoch,  or  por 
tion  of  an  epoch,  some  interesting  and  important  event,  at 
least,  forming  a  sort  of  historical  whole,  should  be  selected 
and  minutely  studied,  till  he  is  thoroughly  familiar  with  all  ite 
details,  and  perfectly  comprehends  the  connexion,  meaning, 
and  consequences,  of  all  the  facts.  This  should  be  done  foi 
the  purpose  of  teaching  him  how  to  investigate  and  compare, 
combine  and  reflect  for  himself. 

In  the  impossibility,  then,  of  communicating  a  thorough 
krowledge  of  history  during  the  usual  course  of  public  in- 
struction, Urns  much,  it  is  conceived,  should  be  attempted-  — 
10  add  to  the  study  of  some  judicious  compend  of  universal 
nistory,  that  of  some  good  specimen  of  philosophical  gene- 
ralization of  historical  facts,  and  the  thorough  investigation 
of  some  small  portion  of  special  history 

The  present  work  by  M.  Guizot  may  be  recommended  a? 


10  PREFACE. 

an  excellent  specimen  of  the  sort  of  books  which  may  aid 
the  student  in  forming  the  habit  of  reflecting  upon  the  facts 
of  history,  and  in  awakening  and  directing  an  intelligent  in- 
terest in  the  study  of  those  facts  Its  generalizations,  it  is 
true,  are  often  extremely  rapid,  and  presume  a  vast  amount 
of  historical  knowledge  ;  but  with  the  guidance  of  a  compe 
ten.  teacher,  the  diligent  student  may  supply  for  himself  the 
needful  information  ;  while  the  clearness  and  liveliness  of  the 
style  render  it  an  attractive  work,  and  the  general  justness 
of  its  thought,  the  moderation  and  candor  of  its  spirit,  make 
it  for  the  most  part  a  safe  and  salutary  work. 

In  the  occasional  notes  added  to  this  edition — and  which 
tro  referred  to  by  numerals — the  editor  has  had  no  regular 
plan  of  elucidating  the  work.  He  has  sometimes  made  a 
critical  or  qualifying  remark  simply  because  it  could  be  done 
■n  a  short  space,  and  at  other  times  has  omitted  lo  say  any 
thing,  because  he  would  otherwise  have  been  led  into  too 
extended  a  disquisition.  So,  likewise,  in  some  places  he  has 
given  historical  or  chronological  statements  of  facts  where  he 
thought  he  could  do  so  to  any  good  purpose  within  a  mode- 
rate compass,  and  in  other  places,  which  might  seem  equally 
or  more  to  require  similar  illustration,  he  has  added  nothing, 
because  he  could  not  save  the  student  the  trouble  of  looking 
elsewhere  without  increasing  too  much  the  size  of  the  volume. 
I  n  short,  they  are  what  they  are — here  and  there  a  note  ;  and 
t lie  editor  would  fain  hope  that  they  will  not  detract  from  the 
value  of  the  work  in  the  view  of  any  readers,  and  that  to 
some  they  may  be  of  use.  C    S  H. 

University  of  Nbw-Ycrk. 
June,  1842 


ANALYTICAL  TABLE   OF    CONTENTS 


LECTURE  L 


CIVILIZATION    IN    GENERAL. 


PAGE. 

O^j  xt  of  tho  course 15 

HiiTorv  of  European  civilization lfi 

P.M-t  taken  in  it  by  France 16 

Civilization  may  be  recounted 17 

Forms  the  most  general  and  interesting 

fact  of  history 17 

Popular  and  usual  meaning  of  the  word 

civilization 20 

Civilization  consists  of  two  principal 
facts  : — 1st.  the  progress  of  socie- 
ty; 2d.  The  progiess  of  indivi- 
duals       25 

Proofs  of  this  assertion 26 


TAl.t 

That  these  two  facts  are  necessaruy 
connected  to  ono  another,  and 
sooner  or  later  produce  one  an- 
other       2*! 

The  entire  destiny  of  man  not  con- 
tained in  his  present  or  social  con- 
dition      M 

Two  ways  of  considering  and  writing 
the  history  of  civilization 31 

A  few  words  upon  the  plan  of  this 
course 3°. 

Of  the  actual  state  of  opinion,  and  of 
the  future,  as  regards  civilization    33 


LECTURE  II. 


Or  EUROPEAN  CIVILIZATION  ;— IN  PARTICULAR  ITS  DISTINGUISHED  CHARACTERISTIC* 
—ITS   SUPERIORITY— ITS   ELEMENTS. 


Object  of  tho  lecture 

Unity  of  ancient  civilization 

Variety  of  modern  civilization 

Superiority  of  the  latter 

State  of  E'urope  at  the  Fall  of  the  Ro- 
man Empire 

Preponderance  of  cities 

Attempts  at  political  reform  mode  by 
the  emperois 

Rescripts  of  Honorius  and  Theodo- 
sius  II 

Power  in  the  name  of  empire 


35  Tub  Christian  Church 43 

36  The  various  states  in  which  it  had 

37  existed  down  to  the  fifth  century.     50 
39        The    clergy  possessed  of  municipal 

offices 52 

41        Good  and  evil  influence  of  the  church    54 

41    The   Barbarians 55 

They    introduce    into    the    modern 
45  world  the  sentiments  of  personal 

independence  and  loyalty £7 

45     Sketch  of  the  various  elements  of  civi- 
48  lization  at  the  beginning  of  the 

fifth  century 56 


LECTURE  IIL 

OF   POLITICAL   LEGITIMACY — CO-KXISTENCS   OP   ALL   THE   SYSTEMS   OP  GOVERN81UNT 
IN   THE    PIFTH   CENTURY— ATTEMPTS   TO  RE-ORGANIZE   SOCIETY. 


AJ1  the  various  systems  of  civili 

lay  claim  to  l«^itimacy 

Explanation  of  political  legitimacy. . . . 

Co-existence  of  all  the  various  sys- 
tems of  government  in  the  fifth 
century 

Lia'ability  of  the  s.jrte  of  persons, 
estates,  domains,  and  institu- 
tions  

tVvo  causes— one  material,  the  con- 
tinuation of  the  invasions 

sctond  moral,  the  sentiment  of  ego- 
tist individualism,  peculiar  to  the 
barbarians 


C6 


c: 


71 


The  elementary  principles  of  civiliza- 
tion have  been, 

1.  The  want  of  order 74 

2    Remembrances  of  the  empire. ...  74 

3.  The  Christian  Church 74 

4.  The  barbarians 75 

Attempts  at  organization 75 

1.  By  the  barbarians 7!i 

2.  By  the  cities 7fi 

3.  By  the  church  of  Spain 71 

4.  By  Charlemagne— Alfred. 7f' 

The  German  aud  Saracen  invasion  or 

rested 10 

The  fond*,  evttem  begins bl 


12 


CONTENTS. 


LECTURE  IV. 


THE   FEUDAL   SYSTEM 


PAGE. 

Neccs3ary  alliance  of  facts  and  theo- 
ries   82 

Preponderance  of  country  life 87 

Organization  of  a  little  feudal  so- 
ciety   88 

Influence  of  feudalism  upon  the  dispo- 
sition of  a  proprietor  of  a  fief.. . . .  89 

Upon  the  spirit  of  family 89 

Hatred  of  the  people  for  the  I'feudal  sys- 
tem   93 

Priests  could  do  but  little  for  the  serfs.  93 


PAGE 

Impossibility  of  regular  crgamiatiai.  ef* 

the  feudal  system 9] 

1st.  No  great  authority 96 

2d.  No  public  power 97 

3d.  Difficulties  of  the  federative  sys- 
tem     9* 

Right  of  resistance   inherent  in  the 

feudal  system 99 

Influence  of  feudalism  good  for  the  de- 
velopment of  individual  man 100 

Bad  for  social  order 101 


LECTURE  V. 


THE   CHRISTIAN   CHU.".CH 


Religion  a  principle  of  association. . . .  104 
t*3ice  not  essential  to  government. ...  110 
Conditions  necessary  to  the  legitimacy 

of  a  government 112 

1.  Power  in  the  hands  of  the  most 
worthy 112 

2.  Respect  lor  the  liberties  of  the 
governed 112 

The  church  being  a  corporation  and 
not  a  caste,  answered  to  the  first 
of  these  conditions 113 

Vg^ous  modes  of  nomination  and  elec- 
tion in  the  church 114 


It  failed  in  the  second  condition  by  thfl 
unlawful  extension  of  the  principle 
of  authority 116 

And  by  its  abusive  employment  of 
force.....". 117 

Activity  and  liberty  of  mind  within  the 
church 119 

Connexion  of  the  church  with  prin- 
ces   121 

Principle  of  the  independence  of  spirit- 
ual   authority 129 

Claims  of  the  church  to  dominion  over 
temporal  powers 713 


LECTURE  VI. 

THE   CHRISTIAN   CHURCH. 


Separation  of  the  governing  and  the 
governed  in  the  church 126 

Indirect  influence  of  the  laity  upon  the 
church 129 

The  clerical  body  recruited  froo.  all 

ranks  of  society 130 

Influence  of  the  church  on  public  order 
and  legislation 132 

Its  system  of  penitence 135 

The  progress  of  the  human  mind  pure- 
ly theological 136 

The  church  ranges  itself  on  the  side  of 
authority 133 

Not  astonishing — the  object  of  religion 
is  to  regulate  human  liberty 138 

Various  states  of  the  church  from  the* 


fifth  to  the  twelfth  century 14l 

.  The  imperial  church Ill 

.  The  barbarian  church— develop- 
ment of  the  principle  of  the  sepa- 
ration of  the  two  powers 1 42 

The  monastic  orders 143 

.  The  feudal  church 144 

Attempts  at  organization 145 

Want  of  reform 145 

Gregory  VII 146 

.  The  theocrat;«  church 146 

Revival  of  free  inquiry 1 47 

Abelard,  <fcc 147 

Agitation  in  the  municipalities..  149 
No  connexion  between  these  two 
facts 148 


LECTURE  VII. 


RISE   OF   FREE   CITIES. 


A  sketch  of  the  different  states  of 
cities  in  the  twelfth  and  eigh- 
teenth centuries 150 

Twofold  question: — 

jt*   Affranchisement  of  cities 154 

State  of  cities  from  the  fifth  to  the 

tenth  centuries 155 

Their  decline  and  revival 155 

Insurrection  of  the  commons 159 

■  Charters  ,, 16) 


Social  and  moral  eflects  of  tho  af 
franchisement  of  the  cities. . . .  162 
1.    Of  the    interior   government   of 

cities 169 

Assemblies  of  the  people 169 

Magistrates 169 

High  and  low  burghen 169 

Diversity  in  the  state  of  the  com- 
mon* ir-  various  countries 170 


KST* 


13 


i.i   rumi  vni 

8KI1    II   OF    EUROPEAN   CIVILIZATION  —1  HE   CRtSADB* 


paok. 

kMi  ml  Tiew  .)f  :he  civilization  of  Eu- 
rope    173 

to  distinctive  and  fundamental  charac- 
ter   IT') 

Whrn  this  character  began  to  upi*nr. .    175 
*tate  of  Europe  from  the  twelfth  to 
the  sixteenth  century 175 


tAOK 
TlIK  Crusades: 

Tnoir  character 177 

Their  moral  and  social  causes ITS 

These  cmim  ee>M  at  the  end  cl  the 

thirteenth   century lftl 

K  fleets  of  the  crusades  upon  citiS- 
zation 19? 


lecture  IX 


MONARCH  V. 


Important  part  of  monarchy  in  the  his- 
tory of  Europe 193 

In  the  history  of  the  world 104 

True  causes  of  its  importance l'J5 

Twofold   point  of  view   under  which 

monarchy  should  be  considered..  195 
1st.  Its  pecuiiar  and  permanent  char- 
acter   195 

It  is  the  personification  of  legitimate 
sovereignty 196 


Within  what  limits I* 

2d.  Its   flexibility  and   diversity 200 

The  European  monarchy  seems  the 
result  of  the  various  species   of 

monarchy 200 

Of  the  barbarian  monarchy 201 

of  the-  imperial  monarchy 202 

Of  the  feudal  monarchy 205) 

Of  modern  monarchy,  properly  so  call- 
ed, and  of  its  true  *toaractet 20fl 


LECTURE  X. 

ATTEMPTS   AT   0«QAN1ZAT10N. 


A i  tempts  to  reconcile  the  various  so- 
cial elements  of  modern  Europe, 
so  as  to  make  them  live  and  act 
m  common — to  form  one  society 
under  one  same  central  power. ...  210 
<rt.  Attempt  at  theocratic  organiza- 
tion   213 

Why  it   failed 213 

Four  principal  obstacles 213 

Faults  of  Gregory  VII 210 

He-action  against  the  dominion  of 

the  church 217 

On  the  part  of  the  people 217 

On  the  part  of  the  sovereigns 217 

jL  Attempts  at  republican  organiza- 
tion   ....  218 


Italian  republics— then    vices 220 

Cities  of  the  south  of  Franco 222 

Crusade  against  the  Albigenses. . . .  222 

The  Swiss  confederacy 222 

Free    cities   of    Flanders    and    the 

Rhino. >...• 222 

Ilanscatic  League 22  J 

Struggle  between  the  feudal  nobility 

and  the  cities 223 

3d.  Attempts  at  mixed  organization. . .  224 

The  States-general  of  France 224 

The  Cortes  of  Spain  and  Portugal. .  225 

The  Parliament  of  England 226 

Bad  success  of  all  these  attempts 228 

Causes  of  their  failure 22» 

General  tendency  of  Europe 228 


LECTURE  XI. 

CENTRALIZATION,    DIPLOMAT,    ETC. 


Particular  character    xf  the  fifteenth 

century 229 

Progressive  centralizations  of  nations 

and  governments 230 

at.  Of  France 231 

Formation  of  the  national  spirit  of 

France 232 

Formation  of  thti  French  temtory . .  232 
Louis  XI.,  manner  of  governing. . . .  234 

id.  Ot  Spain 235 

H.  Of  Germany 230 

ith    OI  England 230 

*h    Ofltaly 237 

•'  f  ho  exvri^r  rrW\  r\»  of  «•-.•'« 


and  of  diplomacy 238 

Agitation  of  relisious  opinions 24< 

Attempt  at  aristocratic  reform  in  the 

church 241 

Councils  of  Constance  and  Bale 241 

Attempt  at  popular  reform 243 

John  Huss 243 

Revival  of  ancient  literature 214 

Admiration  for  antiquity 215 

Classic  school 245 

General  activity 246 

Voyages,  travels,  inventions  <fcc 24 

CeacJasion 24 


14 


CONTENTS 


LECTURE  XH. 


THE   REFORMATION. 


TAGE. 

Difficulty  of  unravelling  general  facts 
in  modern  history 248 

Picture  of  Europe  in  the  sixteenth 
century 249 

Danger  of  precipitate  generalizations . .  253 

Various  causes  assigned  for  the  refor- 
mation    254 

Its  predominant  characteristic — the  in- 
surrection   of    the    human    mind 


PAGE 
against  absolute  power  in  intellec- 
tual affairs 25i 

Proofs  of  this  fact 257 

Progress  of  the  reformation  in  different 

countries 25*? 

Weak  side  of  the  reformation 260 

Th  3  Jesuits 26? 

Analogy  between   the    revo.uUons  cf 
civil  and  religious  society 264 


LECTURE  XIII. 

THE   ENGLISH   REVOLUTION. 


3eneral  character  of  ths  English  revo- 
lution   269 

fts  principal  causes 270 

Rather  political  than  religious 271 

Three  great  parties  succeed  one  an- 
other in  its  progress 275 

fed     The     pure     monarchy     reform 

party 275 

2d.  The  constitutional  reform  party. ..  276 


3d.  The  repubLcan  party 278 

They  all  fail 278 

Cromwell 279 

Restoration  of  the  Stuarts 281 

The  legitimate  administration 282 

Profligate  administrations 283 

National  administration 283 

Revolution  of  1688  in  England  and  Eu- 
rope   285 


LECTURE  XIV 


THE    FRENCH   REVOLUTION. 


Uitferences  and  resemblances  in  the 
progress  of  civilization  in  England 
and  on  the  continent 287 

Preponderance  of  France  in  Europe  in 
the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth 
centuries 291 

tii  Jie  seventeenth  by  the  French 
government 292 

Cn  the  eighteenth  by  the  count  y  ittelf.  293 

loius  IV 293 

Tabic  of  Cdntempohaby  SovnuBioKt?. 


Of  his  wars..  < 

Of  his  diplomacy 

Of  his  administration 

Of  his  legislation 

Causes  of  its  prompt  decline 

France  in  t.ie  eighteenth  century 

Essential  characteristics  of  the  philo- 
sophical revolution 

Conclusion 


294 
295 


299 
300 


SOS 
909 


SOT 


GENERAL 

HISTORY  OF  CIVILIZATION 

IN  MODERN  EUROFE, 

HSON     THE     FALL    OF    THE    ROMAN    EMPIRE    TO     THE      •I1EN(H 
REVOLUTION 


LECTURE  I. 

CIVILIZATION    IN    GENERAL. 

Being  called  upon  to  give  a  course  of  lectures,  and  having 
considered  what  subject  would  be  most  agreeable  and  con- 
venient to  fill  up  the  short  space  allowed  us  from  now  to  the 
close  of  the  year,  it  has  occurred  to  me  that  a  general  sketch 
of  the  History  of  Modern  Europe,  considered  more  especial- 
ly with  regard  to  the  progress  of  civilization — that  a  general 
survey  of  the  history  of  European  civilization,  of  its  origin, 
i*-9  progress,  its  end,  its  character,  would  be  the  most  profitable 
tnitaect  upon  which  I  could  engage  your  attention. 

I  say  European  :ivilization,  because  there  is  evidently  so 
striking  a  uniformity  (unite)  in  the  civilization  of  the  different 
states  of  Europe,  as  fully  u)  warrant  this  appellation.  Civili- 
zation has  flowed  to  them  all  from  sources  so  much  alike — it 
is  so  connected  in  them  all,  notwithstanding  the  great  differ- 
ences of  time,  of  place,  and  circumstances,  by  the  same  prin- 
ciples, and  it  so  tends  in  them  all  to  bring  about  the  same  re- 
sults, that  no  one  will  doubt  the  fact  of  there  being  a  civiliza- 
tion essentially  European. 

At  the  same  time  it  must  be  observed  that  this  civilization 
cannot  be  found  in — its  history  cannot  be  collected  from,  the 
history  of  any  single  state  of  Europe.  However  similar  in 
i?H  general  appearance  throughout  the  whole,  rte  variety  is  not 


I  6 


GENE'LAL    HISTORY    OF    THE 


less  remarkable,  nor  has  it  ever  yet  developed  itself  completely 
in  any  particular  country.  Its  characteristic  features  arc 
widely  spread,  and  we  shall  be  obliged  to  seek,  as  occasior 
may  require,  in  England,  in  France,  in  Germany,  in  Spain, 
for   he  elements  of  its  history. 

The  situation  in  winch  we  are  placed,  as  Frenchmen, 
affords  us  a  great  advantage  for  entering  upon  the  study  of 
European  civilization  ;  for,  without  intending  to  flatter  the 
country  to  which  I  am  bound  by  so  many  ties,  I  cannot  but 
regard  France  as  the  centre,  as  the  focus,  of  the  civilization 
of  Europe.  It  would  be  going  too  far  to  say  that  she  has  al 
ways  been,  upon  every  occasion,  in  advance  of  other  nations. 
Italy,  at  various  epoens,  has  outstripped  her  in  the  arts;  Eng- 
lanfl.«  as  regards-  political  institutions,  is  by  far  before  her ; 
and,  perhaps,'  at' certain  moments,  we  may  find  other  nations 
■pf.  EurepTe-  superior  tocher  in  various  particulars  :  but  it  must 
still-  be  allowed,  that  whenever  France  has  set  forward  in  the 
career  of  civilization,  she  has  sprung  forth  with  new  vigor, 
and  has  soon  come  up  with,  or  passed  by,  all  her  rivals. 

Not  only  is  this  the  case,  but  those  ideas,  those  institutions 
which  promote  civilization,  but  whose  birth  must  be  referred 
to  other  countries,  have,  before  they  could  become  general,  or 
produce  fruit, — before  they  could  be  transplanted  to  other 
lands,  or  benefit  the  common  stock  of  European  civilization, 
been  obliged  to  undergo  in  France  a  new  preparation :  it  is 
from  France,  as  from  a  second  country  more  rich  and  fertile, 
that  they  have  started  forth  to  make  the  conquest  of  Europe. 
/There  is  not  a  single  great  idea,  not  a  single  great  principle 
of  civilization,  which,  in  order  to  become  universally  spread, 
has  not  first  passed  through  France. 

There  is,  indeed,  in  the  genius  of  the  French,  something  of 
a  sociableness,  of  a  sympathy, — something  which  spreads- 
its  eif  with  more  facility  and  energy,  than  in  the  genius  of  any 
other  people  :  it  may  be  in  the  language,  or  the  particular  turn 
of  mind  of  the  French  nation ;  it  may  be  in  their  manners, 
or  that  their  ideas,  being  more  popular,  present  themselves 
more  clearly  to  the  masses,  penetrate  among  them  with  great- 
er ease ;  but,  in  a  word,  clearness,  sociability,  sympathy,  are 
the  particular  characteristics  of  France,  of  its  civilization  ; 
and  these  qualities  render  it  eminently  qualified  to  march  at 
the  head  of  European  civilization. 

In  studying,  then,  the  history  of  this  great  fact,  it  is  neither 
an  ait>i*ra*y  choice,  nor  cor.rention,  that  leads  us  to  make 


CIVILIZATION    Off    MODERN     EUROPE.  IT 

a  the  central  point  i'rom  which  we  shall  study  it;  but  it 
is  because  we  foeJ  that  in  so  doing,  we  in  i  manner  place  our- 
BelfOi  in  the  very  heart  of  civilization  itself — in  the  heart  of 
•he  very  fact  which  we  desire  to  investigate. 

I  say  fact,  and  I  say  it  advisedly:  civilization  is  just  as 
much  a  fact  as  any  other — it  is  a  fact  which  like  any  othei 
may  be  studied,  described,  and  have  its  history  recounted. 

It  has  been  the  custom  for  some  time  past,  and  very  proper- 
ly, to  talk  of  the  necessity  of  confining  history  to  facts ;  no- 
thing  can  be  more  just ;  but  it  would  be  almost  absurd  to  sup- 
pose  that  there  are  no  facts  but  such  as  are  material  and 
visible :  there  are  moral,  hidden  facts,  which  are  no  less  real 
than  battles,  wars,  and  the  public  acts  of  government.  Besidtb 
these  individual  facts,  each  of  which  has  its  proper  name, 
there  are  others  of  a  general  nature,  without  a  name,  of  which 
it  is  impossible  to  say  that  they  happened  in  such  a  year,  or 
on  such  a  day,  and  which  it  is  impossible  to  confine  within 
any  precise  limits,  but  which  are  yet  just  as  much  facts  as  the 
battles  and  public  acts  of  which  we  have  spoken. 

That  very  portion,  indeed,  which  we  are  accustomed  to 
hear  called  the   philosophy  of  history — which    consists    icylJLflt* 
showing  the  relation  of  events  with  each  other — the  chainl  ,_•  /> 
which  connects  them— the  causes  and  effects  of  events — thi?J 
is  history  just  as  much  as  the  description  of  battles,  and  all 
the  other  exterior  events  which  it  recounts.  Facts  of  this  kind 
are  undoubtedly  more  difficult  to  unravel ;  the  historian  is  more 
liable  to  deceive  himself  respecting  them  ;  it  requires  more 
skill  to  place  them  distinctly  before  the  reader ;  but  this  diffi- 
culty does  not  alter  their  nature  ;  they  still  continue  not  a  whit 
the  less,  for  all  this,  to  form  an  essential  part  of  history. 

"Civilization  is  just  one  of  these  kind  of  facts  ;  it  is  so  gene 
ral  in  its  nature  that  it  can  scarcely  be  seized  ;  so  complicated 
that  it  can  scarcely  be  unravelled  ;  so  hidden  as  scarcely  ti 
be  discernible.  The  difficulty  of  describing  it,  of  recounting 
iu  history,  is  apparent  and  acknowledged ;  but  its  existence, 
its  worthiness  to  be  described  and  to  be  recounted,  is  not  less 
certain  and  manifest.  Then,  respecting  civilization,  what  a 
number  of  problems  remain  to  be  solved  !  It  may  be  asked, 
•t  is  even  now  disputed,  whether  civilization  be  a  good  or  an 
evil  ?  One  party  decries  it  as  teeming  with  mischief  to  man, 
nhile  another  lauds  it  as  the  means  by  which  he  will  attair 


18  OENERAL    HISTORY    01     THE 

(Ids  highest  dignity  and  excellence.1  Again,  it  is  asked 
whether  this  fact  is  universal — whether  there  is  a  general 
civilization  of  the  whole  human  race — a  course  for  humanity 
+&urlo  un— -a  destiny  for  it  to  accomplish ;  whether  nations  have 
not  transmitted  from  age  to  age  something  to  their  successors 
which  is  never  lost,  but  which  grows  dnd  continues  as  a  com- 
mon stock,  and  will  thus  be  carried  on  to  the  end  of  all  things. 
For  my  part,  I  feel  assured  that  human  nature  has  such  a  des 
liny ;  that  a  general  civilization  pervades  the  human  race  ; 
that  at  every  epoch  it  augments  ;  and  that  there,  consequently, 


1  This  dispute  turns  upon  the  greater  or  less  extension  given  to 
the  term. 

Civilization  may  be  taken  to  signify  merely  the  multiplication  oi 
artificial  wants,  and  of  the  means  and  refinements  of  physical  en- 
joyment. 

It  may  also  be  taken  to  imply  both  a  state  of  physical  well  being 
und  a  state  of  superior  intellectual  and  moral  culture. 

It  is  only  in  the  former  sense  that  it  can  be  alleged  that  civiliza- 
tion is  an  evil. 

Civilization  is  properly  a  relative  term.  It  refers  to  a  certain 
state  of  mankind  as  distinguished  from  barbarism. 

Man  is  formed  for  society.  Isolated  and  solitary,  his  reason 
would  remain  perfectly  undeveloped.  Against  the  total  defeat  of 
liis  destination  for  rational  development  God  has  provided  by  the 
domestic  relations.  Yet  without  a  further  extension  of  the  social 
ties,  man  would  still  remain  comparatively  rude  and  uncultivated 
— never  emerging  from  barbarism.  In  proportion  as  the  social  re- 
lations are  extended,  regulated  and  perfected,  man  is  softened, 
ameliorated,  cultivated.  To  this  improvement  various  social  con- 
ditions combine;  but  as  the  political  organization  of  society — the 
ltate — is  that  which  first  gives  security  and  permanence  to  all  the 
others,  it  holds  the  most  important  place.  Hence  it  is  from  the 
political  organization  of  society,  from  the  establishment  of  the 
dtate,  (in  Latin  civitas,)  that  the  word  civilization  is  taken. 

Civilization,  therefore,  in  its  most  general  idea,  is  an  improved 
condition  of  man  resulting  from  the  establishment  of  social  ordeT 
ji  place  of  the  individual  independence  and  lawlessness  of  the 
ravage  or  barbarous  life.  It  may  exist  in  various  degrees:  it  19 
susceptible  of  continual  progress :  and  hence  the  history  of  civiliza- 
tion is  the  history  of  the  progress  of  the  human  race  towards  read- 
ing the  idea  of  humanity,  through  the  extension  and  perfection  of 
che  social  relations,  and  as  affected,  advanced  or  retarded,  by  the 
character  of  the  various  political  and  civil  institutions  which  have 
existed. 


CIVILIZATION    OF    MODERN     F.dltol'F.  10 

la  a  universal  history  of  civilization  to  bo  written.  Nor  have 
I  any  hesitation  in  asserting  that  this  history  is  the  most  noble, 
he  most  interesting  of  any,  and  that  it  comprehends  every 
other. 

Is  it  not  indeed  clear  that  civilization  is  the  great  fact  in 
which  all  others  merge  ;  in  which  they  all  end,  in  which  they 
tire  all  condensed,  in  which  all  others  nnd  their  importance  ? 
Take  all  the  facts  of  which  the  history  of  a  nation  is  com- 
jK)33d,  all  the  facts  which  we  are  accustomed  to  consider  ap 
the  elements  of  its  existence — take  its  institutions,  its  com 
merce,  its  industry,  its  wars,  the  various  details  of  its  govern 
ment ;  and  if  you  would  form  some  idea  of  them  as  a  whele, 
if  you  would  see  their  various  bearings  on  each  other,  if  you 
would  appreciate  their  value,  if  you  would  pass  a  judgment 
upon  them,  what  is  it  you  desire  to  know  ?  Why,  what  they 
have  done  to  forward  the  progress  of  civilization — what  pari 
they  have  acted  in  this  great  drama, — what  influence  they  hav< 
exercised  in  aiding  its  advance.  It  is  not  only  by  this  that 
we  form  a  general  opinion  of  these  facts,  but  it  is  by  this  stand- 
ard that  we  try  them,  that  we  estimate  their  true  value. 
These  are,  as  it  were,  the  rivers  of  whom  we  ask  how  much 
water  they  have  carried  to  the  ocean.  Civilization  is,  as  iP, 
were,  the  grand  emporium  of  a  people,  in  which  all  its  wealth 
— all  the  elements  of  its  'ifo — al1  the  powers  of  its  existence 
are  stored  up.  It  is  so  true  that  we  judge  of  minor  facts  ac- 
cordingly as  they  affect  this  greater  one,  that  even  some  which 
are  naturally  detested  and  hated,  which  prove  a  heavy  ca- 
lamity to  the  nation  upon  which  they  fall — say,  for  instance, 
despotism,  anarchy,  and  so  forth, — even  these  are  partly  for- 
given, their  evil  nature  is  partly  overlooked,  if  they  have  aid 
ed  in  any  considerable  degree  the  march  of  civilization. 
Wherever  the  progress  of  this  principle  is  visible,  togethei 
with  the  facts  which  have  urged  it  forward,  we  are  tempted  to 
forget  the  price  it  has  cost — we  overlook  the  dearness  of  the 
purchase. 

Again,  there  are  certain  facts  which,  property  speaking,  can 
not  be  called  social — individual  facts  which  rather  concern  the 
human  intellect  than  public  life :  such  are  scligious  doctrines-, 
philosophical  Opinions,  literature,  the  sciences  and  arts.  All 
those  seem  to  offer  themselves  to  individual  man  for  hia 
improvement,  instruction,  or  amusement ;  and  to  be  directed 
rather  to  his  intellectual  melioration  and  pleasure,  than  to  hia 
social  condition.     Yet  still,  how  cften  do  these  facts  come  be- 


r 


20  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF    THB 

fore  us — liow  often  are  we  compelled  to  consider  tUem  as  in 
nucncing  civilization !     In  all  times,  in  all  countries,  it  has 

CDeen  the  boast  of  religion,  that  it  has  civilized  the  people 
among  whom  it  has  dwelt.  Literature,  the  arts,  and  sciences, 
have  put  in  their  claim  for  a  share  of  this  glory ;  and  mankind 
i  has  Dt<en  ready  to  laud  and  honor  them  whenever  it  has  fell 
that  this  praise  was  fairly  their  due.  In  the  same  manner, 
facts  the  most  important — facts  of  themselves,  and  indepen- 
dently of  their  exterior  consequences,  the  most  sublime  in 
their  nature,  have  increased  in  importance,  have  reached  a 
higher  degree  of  sublimity,  by  their  connexion  with  civiliza 
tion.  Such  is  the  worth  of  this  great  principle,  that  it  gives 
a  value  to  all  it  touches.  Not  only  so,  but  there  are  even 
cases,  in  which  the  facts  of  which  we  have  spoken,  in  which 
philosophy,  literature,  the  sciences,  and  the  arts,  are  especial- 
ly  judged,  and  condemned  or  applauded,  according  to  their 
influence  upon  civilization. 


Before,  however,  we  proceed  to  the  history  of  this  fact,  so 
important,  so  extensive,  so  precious,  and  which  seems,  as  it 
were,  to  imbody  the  entire  life  of  nations,  let  us  consider 
it  for  a  moment  in  itself,  and  endeavor  to  discover  what  it 
really  is. 

I  shall  be  careful  here  not  to  fall  into  pure  philosophy  ;  1 
bhall  not  lay  down  a  certain  rational  principle,  and  then,  by 
deduction,  show  the  nature  of  civilization  as  a  consequence 
diere  would  be  too  many  chances  of  error  in  pursuing  this 
method.  Still,  without  this,  we  shall  be  able  to  rind  a  fact  to 
establish  and  to  describe. 

For  a  long  time  past,  and  in  many  countries,  the  word  ciy 
ilization  has  been  in  use;  ideas  more  or  less  clear,  and  of 
wider  or  more  contracted  signification,  have  been  attached  to 
it ;  still  it  has  been  constantly  employed  and  generally  under- 
stood. Now,  it  is  the  popular,  common  signification  of  thi&i 
word  that  we  must  investigate.  In  the  usual,  general  accep- 
tation of  terms,  there  will  nearly  always  be  found  more  truth 
than  in  the  seemingly  more  precise  and  rigorous  definitions 
of  science.  It  is  common  sense  which  gives  to  words  their 
popular  signification,  and  common  sense  is  the  genius  of  hu- 
manity. The  popular  signification  of  a  word  is  formed  by  de- 
crees, and  while  the  facts  it  represents  are  themselves  present. 
As  often  as  a  fact  ccmes  before  us  which  seems  to  answer  tc 


<  [vir.i/.\  ik»\    of    Mo..i  hn    buROPt.  '-'I 

he  Signification  of  a  knoAn  term,  this  term  is  naturally  aj>- 
plied  to  it,  its  signification  gradually  extending  and  enlarging 

Itself,  so  that  at  last  the  various  facts  and  ideas  which,  from 
the  nature  of  things,  ought  to  be  brought  together  and  imbo- 
died  in  this  term,  will  be  found  collected  and  imbodied  in  it 
When,  on  the  contrary,  the  signification  of  a  word  is  deter- 
mined by  seioncc,  it  is  usually  done  by  one  or  a  very  few  indi- 
viduals, who,  at  the  time,  are  under  the  influence  of  ?omc 
particular  fact  which  has  taken  possession  of  their  imagina 
don.  Thus  it  comes  to  pass  that  scientific  definitions  are,  in 
general,  much  narrower,  and,  on  that  very  account,  much  less 
correct,  than  the  popular  significations  given  to  words.  So, 
in  the  investigation  of  the  meaning  of  the  word  civilization  as 
a  fact — by  seeking  out  all  the  ideas  it  comprises,  according 
to  the  common  sense  of  mankind,  we  shall  arrive  much  near- 
er to  the  knowledge  of  the  faet  itself,  by  than  attempting  to  give 
our  own  scientific  definition  of  it,  though  this  might  at  first 
appear  more  clear  and  precise. 


1  shall  commence  this  investigation  by  placing  before  you 
a  series  of  hypotheses.  I  shall  describe  society  in  various 
conditions,  and  shall  then  ask  if  the  state  in  which  I  so  do 
scribe  it  is,  in  the  general  opinion  of  mankind,  the  state  of  a 
people  advancing  in  civilization — if  it  answers  to  the  signifi- 
cation which  mankind  generally  attaches  to  this  word. 

First,  imagine  a  people  whose  outward  circumstances  are 
easy  and  agreeable  ;  few  taxes,  few  hardships  ;  justice  is 
fairly  administered ;  in  a  word,  physical  existence,  taken  al- 
together, is  satisfactorily  and  happily  regulated.  But  with  all 
this  the  moral  and  intellectual  energies  of  this  people  are 
studiously  kept  in  a  state  of  torpor  and  inertness.  It  can 
hardly  be  called  oppression  ;  its  tendency  is  not  of  that  char- 
&  iter — it  is  rather  compression.  We  are  not  without  exam- 
ples of  this  state  of  society.  There  have  been  a  great  number 
of  little  aristocratic  republics,  in  which  the  people  have  been 
thus  treated  like  so  many  flocks  of  sheep,  carefully  tended, 
physically  happy,  but  without  the  least  intellectual  and  moral 
activity.  Is  this  civilization  ?  Do  we  recognise  here  a  peo- 
ple in  a  state  of  moral  and  social  advancement  ? 

Let  us  take  another  hypothesis.  Let  us  imagine  a  people 
ivho&e  outward  circumstances  are  less  favorable  and  agreea- 
ble ;  still,  however,  smpuortable      As  n  Ket-ofT,  its  intellectual 


/ 


22  3EXKKAL    HISTORY    OF    TUB 

and  moral  cravings  have  not  here  been  entirely  neglected.  A 
certain  range  has  Been  allowed  them — some  few  pure  and  eleva^ 
ted  sentiments  have  been  here  distributed ;  religious  and  moral 
notions  have  reached  a  certain  degree  of  improvement ;  bo* 
the  greatest  care  has  been  taken  to  stifle  every  principle  oi 
liberty.  The  moral  and  intellectual  wants  of  this  people  are 
provided  for  in  the  way  that,  among  some  nations,  the  physical 
wants  have  been  provided  for  ;  a  certain  portion  of  truth  its 
doled  out  to  each,  but  no  one  is  permitted  to  help  himself— 
f>  seek  for  truth  on  his  own  account.  Immobility  is  tho 
^character  of  its  mora',  life ;  and  to  this  condition  are  fallen 
I  nost  of  the  populations  of  Asia,  in  which  theocratic  govern 
ment  restrains  the  advance  of  man :  such,  for  example,  is  the 
state  of  the  Hindoos.  I  again  put  the  same  question  as  be- 
fore— Is  this  a  people  among  whom  civilization  is  going  on  ? 

I  will  change  entirely  the  nature  of  the  hypothesis :  sup 
pose  a  people  among  whom  there  reigns  a  very  large  stretch 
of  personal  liberty,  but  among  whom  also  disorder  and  in- 
equality almost  everywhere  abound.  The  weak  are  oppress- 
ed, afflicted,  destroyed  ;  violence  is  the  ruling  character  of  the 
social  condition.  Every  one  knows  that  such  has  been  the 
state  of  Europe.  Is  this  a  civilized  state  1  It  may  without 
doubt  contain  germs  of  civilization  which  may  progressively 
shoot  up  ;  but  the  actual  state  of  things  which  prevails  in  this 
society  is  not,  we  may  rest  assured,  what  the  common  sense 
of  mankind  would  call  civilization. 

r  I  pass  on  to  a  fourth  and  last  hypothesis.  Every  indivi 
dual  here  enjoys  the  widest  extent  of  liberty ;  inequality  is 
<;  rare,  or,  at  least,  of  a  very  slight  character.  Every  one  does 
as  he  likes,  and  scarcely  differs  in  power  from  his  neighbor. 
But  then  nere  scarcely  such  a  thing  is  known  as  a  general 
interest ;  here  exist  but  few  public  Ideas  ;  hardly  any  public 
feeling ;  but  little  society :  in  short,  the  life  and  faculties  of 
individuals  are  put  forth  and  spent  in  an  isolated  state,  with 
but  little  regard  to  society,  and  with  scarcely  a  sentiment  at 
its  influence.  Men  here  exercise  ao  influence  upon  one 
another  ;  they  leave  no  traces  of  their  existence.  Generation 
after  generation  pass  away,  leaving  society  just  as  they  found 
it.  Such  is  the  condition  of  the  various  tribes  of  savages  ;  liber- 
ty and  equality  dwell  among  *hem,  but  no  touch  of  civilization. 

I  could  easily  multiply  these  hypotheses ;  but  I  presume 
that  I  have  sone  far  enough  to  show  what  is  the  popular  aru! 
n&tuTal  signification  of  the  word  civilization 


•  it: 

■mu\  moral  victories  tli<  y  had  achieved.  Many  of  the  con- 
veniencee  of  life  wcrt-  here  wauling;  from  a  considerable 
portion  of  the  community  were  still  withheld  their  natural 
rights  and  political  privileges :  hut  tee  the  number  of  illus- 

trious  individuals  who  lived  and  earned  the  applause  and  ap- 
probation of  their  fellow-men.  Here,  too,  literature,  science, 
and  art,  attained  extraordinary  perfection,  and  shone  in  more 
Splendor  than  perhaps  they  had  ever  done  before.  Now, 
wherever  this  takes  place,  wherever  man  sees  these  glorious 
i.Iols  of  bis  worship  displayed  in  their  full  lustre,  —wherever 
lie  sees  this  fund  of  rational  and  refined  enjoyment  for  the 
godlike  part  of  his  nature  called  into  existence,  there  he  re- 
cognises and  adores  civilization. 

Two  elements,  then,  seem  to  be  comprised  in  the  great  fact 
which  we  call  civilization  ; — two  circumstances  are  necessary 
to  its  existence — it  lives  upon  two  conditions — it  reveals  itself 
by  two  symptoms :  the  progress  of  society,  the  progress  of 
individuals  ;  the  melioration  of  the  social  system,  and  the  ex- 
pansion of  the  mind  and  faculties  of  man.  Wherever  the 
exterior  condition  of  man  becomes  enlarged,  quickened,  and 
improved;  wherever  the  intellectual  nature  of  man  distin- 
guishes itself  by  its  energy,  brilliancy,  and  its  grandeur  ; 
wherever  these  two  signs  concur,  and  they  often  do  so,  not- 
withstanding the  gravest  imperfections  in  the  social  system, 
there  man  proclaims  and  applauds  civilization. 

Such,  if  I  mistake  not,  would  be  the  notion  mankind  m 
general  would  form  of  civilization,  from  a  simple  and  rational 
inquiry  into  the  meaning  of  the  term.  This  view  of  it  is  con- 
firmed by  History.  If  we  ask  of  her  what  has  been  the  char- 
icter  of  every  great  crisis  favorable  to  civilization,  if  we  ex- 
amine those  great  events  which  all  acknowledge  to  have  car- 
ried it  forward,  we  shall  always  find  one  or  other  of  the  two 
elements  which  I  have  just  described.  They  have  all  been 
epochs  of  individual  or  social  improvement ;  events  which 
have  either  wrought  a  change  in  individual  man,  in,  his  opin- 
ions, his  manners ;  or  in  his  exterior  condition,  his  situation 
as  regards  his  relations  with  his  fellow-men.  Christianity, 
for  example  •  I  allude  not  merely  to  the  first  moment  of  its 
appearance,  but  to  the  first  centuries  of  its  existence — Chris- 
tianity was  in  no  way  addressed  to  the  social  condition  of 
man  ;  it  distinctly  disclaimed  all  interference  with  it.  It  com- 
manded the  slave  to  obey  his  master.  It  attacked  none  of 
tho  greet  evilft,  none  o*'  the  gross  acts  of  injustice,  by  whicl' 


26  GENERAL    HISTORY     OF    THE 

the  social  system  of  that  day  wa;s  disfigured  :  yet  who  but  will 
acknowledge  that  Christianity  has  been  cne  of  the  greatest 
promoters  of  civilization  ?  And  wherefore  1  Because  it  has 
changed  the  interior  condition  of  man,  his  opinions,  his  sen- 
timents :  because  it  has  regenerated  his  moral,  his  intellectual 
character. 

We  have  seen  a  crisis  of  an  opposite  nature ;  a  crisis 
affecting  not  the  intellectual,  but  the  outward  condition  of 
man,  which  has  changed  and  regenerated  society.  This  also 
we  may  rest  assured  is  a  decisive  crisis  of  civilization.  If 
we  search  history  through,  we  shall  everywhere  find  the 
same  result ;  we  shall  meet  with  no  important  event,  which 
had  a  direct  influence  in  the  advancement  of  civilization, 
which  has  not  exercised  it  in  one  of  the  two  wavs  I  have 
just  mentioned. 


Having  thus,  as  I  hope,  given  you  a  clear  notion  of  the  two 
elements  of  which  civilization  is  composed,  let  us  now  see 
whether  one  of  them  alom  would  be  sufficient  to  constitute 
it :  whether  either  the  development  of  the  social  condition,  or 
the  development  of  the  individual  man  taken  separately,  de- 
serves to  be  regarded  as  civilization  1  or  whether  these  two 
events  are  so  intimately  connected,  that,  if  they  are  not  pro- 
duced simultaneously,  they  are  nevertheless  so  intimately  con- 
nected, that,  sooner  or  later,  one  uniformly  produces  the  other  ? 

There  are  three  ways,  as  it  seems  to  me,  in  which  we  may 
proceed  in  deciding  this  question.  First:  we  may  investi- 
gate the  nature  itself  of  the  two  elements  of  civilization,  and 
(  see  whether  by  that  they  are  strictly  and  necessarily  bound 
together.  Secondly :  we  may  examine  historically  whether,  in 
fact,  they  have  manifested  themselves  separately,  or  whether 
one  has  always  produced  the  other.  Thirdly :  we  may  con- 
sult common  sense,  i.  e.,  the  general  opinion  of  mankind.  Let 
us  first  address  ourselves  to  the  general  opinion  of  mankind — 
to  common  sense. 

When  any  great  change  takes  place  in  the  state  of  a  ceiU> 
•jy — when  any  great  development  of  social  prosperity  is  ac- 
complished within  it — any  revolution  or  reform  in  the  powers 
mil  privileges  of  society,  this  new  event  naturally  has  its  ad- 
versaries.    It   is  necessarily  con  ?sted  and  opposed.*^  Now 


CIVILIZATION    OF    IfODKIW    IUROP1.  'J  < 

what  a-o  the  objections  which  tl.  I  doch   rovolti 

dona  bring  against  them  ? 

They  assert  that  this  progress  of  the  social  condition  is 
tended  with  DO  advantage  ;  that  it  does  not  improve  in  a  cor- 
responding degree  the  moral  state — the  intellectual  powers  of 
man  ;  that  it  is  a  faLe,  deceitfal  progress,  which  proves  detri- 
mental to  his  moral  character,  to  the  true  interests  of  his  bet 
tat  nature.  On  the  other  hand,  this  attack  is  repulsed  with 
much  force  by  the  friends  of  the  movement.  They  main  tail; 
that  the  progress  of  society  necessarily  leads  to  the  progress  oi 
intelligence  and  morality  ;  that,  in  proportion  as  the  social  life 
is  better  regulated,  individual  life  becomes  more  refined  and 
virtuous..  Thus  the  question  rests  in  abeyance  between  the/ 
opposers  and  partisans  of  the  change. 

But  reverse  this  hypothesis  ;  suppose  the  moral  develop- 
ment in  progress.  What  do  the  men  who  labor  for  it  gener- 
ally hope  for  ? — What,  at  the  origin  of  societies,  have  th# 
founders  of  religion,  the  sages,  poets,  and  philosophers,  who 
have  labored  to  regulate  and  refine  the  manners  of  mankind, 
promised  themselves  ?  What  but  the  melioration  of  die  so- 
cial condition  :  the  more  equitable  distribution  of  the  olessings 
of  life  ?  What,  now,  let  me  ask,  should  be  inferred  from  this 
dispute  and  from  those  hopes  and  promises  ?  It  may,  I  think, 
be  fairly  inferred  that  it  is  the  spontaneous,  intuitive  convio 
tion  of  mankind,  that  the  two  elements  of  civilization — the  so 
vial  and  moral  development — are  intimately  connected  ;  that, 
at  the  approach  of  one,  man  looks  for  the  other.  It  is  to  this 
natural  conviction,  we  appeal  when,  to  second  or  combat  either 
one  or  the  other  of  the  two  elements,  we  deny  or  attest  its 
union  with  the  other.  We  know  that  if  men  were  persuaded 
that  the  melioration  of  the  social  condition  would  operate 
against  the  expansion  of  the  intellect,  they  would  almost  op- 
pose and  cry  out  against  the  advancement  of  society.  On  the 
other  hand,  when  we  speak  to  mankind  of  improving  society 
by  improving  its  individual  members,  we  find  them  willing  ti 
believe  us,  and  to  adopt  the  principle.  Hence  we  may  affirm 
that  it  is  the  intuitive  belief  of  man,  that  these  two  elements  of 
ivilization  are  intimately  connected,  and  that  thoy  reciprocal!} 
I  »-oJuce  one  another. 

If  we  now  examine  the  history  of  the  world  we  shall  have 
the  same  result.  We  shall  find  that  every  expansion  of  hu- 
■nan  intelligence  has  proved  of  advantage  to  society:  and  Iha' 


^y  GENERAL    HIST0RV    DF    THE 

all  tlie  great  advances  in  the  social  condition  have  turned  to 
i  the  profit  of  humanity.  One  or  other  of  these  facts  may  pre- 
dominate, may  shine  forth  with  greater  splendor  for  a  season, 
and  impress  upon  the  movement  its  own  particular  character. 
At  times,  it  may  not  be  till  after  the  lapse  of  a  long  interval, 
after  a  thousand  transformations,  a  thousand  obstacles,  that 
the  second  shows  itself,  and  comes,  as  it  were,  to  complete 
the  civilization  which  the  first  had  begun ;  but  when  we  look 
olose  y  we  easily  recognise  the  link  by  which  they  are  con- 
nected. The  movements  of  Providence  are  not  restricted  tc 
narrow  bounds :  it  is  not  anxious  to  deduce  to-day  the  conse- 
quence of  the  premises  it  laid  down  yesterday.  It  may  defer 
this  for  ages,  till  the  fulness  of  time  shall  come.  Its  logic 
will  not  be  less  conclusive  for  reasoning  slowly.     Providence 

C moves  through  time,  as  the  gods  of  Homer  through  space — it 
makes  a  step,  and  ages  have  rolled  away  !  How  long  a  time, 
how  many  circumstances  intervened,  before  the  regeneration 
of  the  moral  powers  of  man,  by  Christianity,  exercised  its 
great,  its  legitimate  influence  upon  his  social  condition  1  Yet 
who  can  doubt  or  mistake  its  power  ? 

If  we  pass  from  history  to  the  nature  itself  of  the  two  facts 
which  constitute  civilization,  we  are  infallibly  led  to  the  same 
result.  We  have  all  experienced  this.  If  a  man  makes  a 
mental  advance,  some  mental  discovery,  if  he  acquires  some 

1  new  idea,  or  some  new  faculty,  what  is  the  desire  that  takes 
possession  of  him  at  the  very  moment  he  makes  it  1  It  is  the 
desire  to  promulgate  his  sentiment  to  the  exterior  world — to 
publish  and  realize  his  thought.     When  a  man  acquires  a  new 

I  truth — when  his  being  in  his  own  eyes  has  made  an  advance, 
has  acquired  a  new  gift,  immediately  there  becomes  joined  to 
this  acquirement  the  notion  of  a  mission.  He  feels  obliged, 
impelled,  as  it  were,  by  a  secret  interest,  to  extend,  to  carry 
i  out  of  himself  the  change,  the  melioration  which  has  been  ac- 
complished within  him.  To  what,  but  this,  do  we  owe  the 
exertions  of  great  reformers  1  The  exertions  of  those  great 
oenefactors  of  the  human  race,  who  have  changed  the  face 
of  the  world,  after  having  first  been  changed  themselves, 
have  been  stimulated  and  governed  by  no  other  impulse  than 
tills. 

S  So  mucli  for  the  change  which  takes  place  in  the  intellec 
tual  man.  Let  us  now  csnsider  him  in  a  social  state  A 
revolution  is  made  in  the  condition  of  society.     Rights  ar.d 


■  i\  i:.:/.a  i  [ON    Of    MODI  i'K 

property  are  more  equitably  distribute  I  individual 

this  is  as  much  as  to  say,  the  appearance  of  the  woiM  II  pu 

rer — is  more  beautiful.     The  state  of  things,  both  as  respect* 
■  ■overnments,  and  as  respects  men  in  their  relations  with  each 

other,  is  improved.     And  can  there  he  a  question  whether  the 

sight  of  this  goodly  spectacle,  whether  the  melioration  ofthfab 
external  condition  of  man,  will  have  a  corresponding  influence/ 
upon  his  moral,  his  individual  character — upon  humanity?  Such 
a  doubt  would  belie  all  that  is  said  of  the  authority  of  exam- 
ple and  of  the  power  of  habit,  which  is  founded  upon  DOtLing 
but  the  conviction  that  exterior  facts  and  circumstances,  if 
good,  reasonable,  well-regulated,  are  followed,  sooner  or  later, 
more  or  less  completely,  by  intellectual  results  of  the  same 
nature,  of  the  same  beauty  :  that  a  world  better  governed,  bet- 
ter regulated,  a  world  in  which  justice  more  fully  prevails, 
renders  man  himself  more  just.  That  the  intellectual  man 
then  is  instructed  and  improved  by  the  superior  condition  of 
society,  and  his  social  condition,  his  external  well-being,  me- 
liorated and  refined  by  increase  of  intelligence  in  individuals  : 
that  the  two  elements  of  civilization  are  strictly  connected  : 
that  ages,  that  obstacles  of  all  kinds,  may  interpose  between 
them — that  it  is  possible  they  may  undergo  a  thousand  trans- 
formations before  they  meet  together ;  but  that  sooner  or  latei 
this  union  will  take  place  is  certain  ;  for  it  is  a  law  of  theii 
nature  that  they  should  do  so — the  great  facts  of  history  beat 
witness  that  such  is  really  the  case — the  instinctive  belief  of 
man  proclaims  the  same  truth. 


Thus,  though  I  have  not  by  a  great  deal  advanced  all  that 
might  be  said  upon  this  subject,  I  trust  I  have  given  a  tolera 
bly  correct  and  adequate  notion,  in  the  foregoing  cursory  ac- 
count, of  what  civilization  is,  of  what  are  its  offices,  and  what 
its  importance.  I  might  here  quit  the  subject ;  but  I  cannot 
part  with  it,  without  placing  before  you  another  question, 
which  here  naturally  presents  itself — a  question  not  purel}' 
historical,  but  rather,  1  will  not  say  hypothetical,  but  conjee 
hiral ;  a  question  which  we  can  see  here  but  in  part ;  bul 
which,  however,  is  not  less  real,  but  presses  itself  upon  oui 
K)»icc  at  every  turn  of  thought. 

Of  the  two  developments,  of   which    we   have   just  no* 
Mpokcn,  and   which  together  constitute  civilization, — of  ihi 


30  OENKKAJL    IiISTOKY    OF     FHF, 

development  of  society  on  one  part,  and  of  the  expansion  o( 
human  intelligence  on  the  other — which  is  die  end?  which 
are  the  means  ?  Is  it  for  the  improvement  of  the  social  con- 
dition, for  the  melioration  of  his  existence  upon  the  earth, 
that  man  fully  developes  himself,  his  mind,  his  faculties,  his 
sentiments,  his  ideas,  his  whole  being  ?  Or  is  the  meliora 
tion  of  the  social  condition,  the  progress  of  society, — is  in 
deod  society  itself  merely  the  theatre,  the  occasion,  the  mo- 
tive and  excitement  for  the  development  of  the  individual? 
In  a  word,  is  society  formed  for  the  individual,  or  the  indi- 
vidual for  society ']  Upon  the  reply  to  this  question  depends 
our  knowledge  of  whether  the  destiny  of  man  is  purely  social, 
whether  society  exhausts  and  absorbs  the  entire  man,  or 
whether  he  bears  within  him  something  foreign,  something 
superior  to  his  existence  in  this  world  % 

One  of  the  greatest  philosophers  and  most  distinguished 
men  of  the  present  age,\whose  words  become  indelibly  en- 
graved upon  whatever  spot  they  fall,[has  resolved  this  ques- 
tion ;  he  has  resolved  it,  at  least,  according  to  his  own  con- 
viction. The  following  are  his  words  :  "  Human  societies  are 
born,  live,  and  die,  upon  the  earth;  there  they  accomplish 
their  destinies.  But  they  contain  not  the  whole  man.  After 
his  engagement  to  society  there  still  remains  in  him  the  more 
noble  part  of  his  nature ;  those  high  faculties  by  which  he 
elevates  himself  to  God,  to  a  future  life,  and  to  the  unknown 
blessings  of  an  invisible  world.  We,  individuals,  each  with 
a  separate  and  distinct  existence,  with  an  identical  person,  we. 

V truly  beings  endowed  with  immortality,  we  have  a  higher  des- 
Viny  than  that  of  states."* 

,  '  I  shall  add  nothing  on  this  subject ;  it  is  not  my  province 
to  handle  it  •  it  is  enough  for  me  to  have  placed  it  before  you. 
It  haunts  us  again  at  the  close  of  the  history  of  civilization. 
— Where  the  history  of  civilization  ends,  when  there  is  no 
more  to  be  said  of  the  present  life,  man  invincibly  demands 
if  all  is  over — if  that  be  the  end  of  all  things  %  This,  then, 
is  the  last  problem,  and  the  grandest,  to  which  the  history  of 
civilization  can  lead  us.  It  is  sufficient  that  I  have  marked 
its  place,  and  its  sublime  character.2 

*  Opinion  De  Royer  Collard,  sur  le  projet  de  loi  rclatif  au  sac 
nlege,  pp.  7  et  1". 

2  Man  can  be  comprehended  cniy  as  a  free  moral  being,  that  iy, 
as  a  rational  bein^:  but  as  a  rational  being  it  is  impossible  to  com- 


CIVILIZATION    OF    MODKRN    BDIOPI  .'II 

Prom  th<%  foregoing  remarks,  it  becomes  evident  that  the 

history  of  civilization   may  be   considered   fTOBO  two  dilVereiiT 
points   Of  view — may   be  drawn    tioiii    two   different    son; 

The  historian  may  Cake  up  his  abode  during  the  time  prescrib- 
ed, sa-  ■  series  of  centimes,  In  the  human  soul,  or  with  some 
particular  nation.  He  may  study,  describe,  relate,  all  the  cir- 
oumstances,  all  the  transformations,  all  the  revolutions,  vmich 
may  have  taken  place  in  the  intellectual  man  ;  and  when  he 
had  done  this  he  would  have  a  history  of  the  civilization  among 
the  people,  or  during  the  period  which  he  had  chosen.  !!<• 
might  proceed  differently:  instead  of  entering  into  the  in-1 
terior  of  man,  he  might  take  his  stand  in  the  external  world, 
lie  might  take  his  station  in  the  midst  of  the  great  theatre  of 
life  ;  instead  of  describing  the  change  of  ideas,  of  the  senti- 
ments of  the  individual  being,  he  might  describe  his  exterior 


prehend  his  existence,  if  it  be  limited  to  the  present  world.  In  the 
very  nature  of  human  reason  and  of  the  relations  of  the  human 
race  to  it,  lies  the  idea  of  the  destination  of  the  race  for  a  super- 
mundane and  eternal  sphere.  Reason  is  the  germ  of  a  develop- 
ment which  is  not  and  cannot  be  reached  here  below.  To  doubt 
that  it  is  destined  for  development,  and  that  there  is  a  correspond- 
ing sphere,  is  contradictory :  it  is  to  doubt  whether  the  fruit,  un- 
folding from  the  blossom,  is  destined  by  its  constitution  to  ripen. 

Herein,  while  the  delusion  of  certain  philosophical  theories  re- 
specting Human  Perfectibility  is  made  apparent,  may  be  seen 
nevertheless  the  correct  idea  of  man's  earthly  life.  It  is  that  of  a 
continual  progress,  a  reaching  towards  that  perfection,  the  notion 
and  desire  of  which  lies  in  the  nature  of  his  reason. 

Humanity  in  all  its  social  efforts  has  always  been  governed  by 
the  idea  of  a  perfection  never  yet  attained.  All  human  history 
may  in  one  view  be  regarded  as  a  series  of  attempts  to  realize  this 
idea. 

As  individual  man  can  attain  the  ideal  perfection  of  his  nature 
only  as  a  rational  being,  by  the  harmony  of  all  his  powers  with  his 
reason ;  so  it  is  equally  clear  that  humanity  can  realize  the  idea  of 
social  perfection  only  as  a  rational  society,  by  the  union  and  broth- 
erhood of  the  human  family,  and  the  harmony  of  all  individuals 
with  the  Divine  reason.  How  far  it  may  be  in  the  intentions  of 
Divine  Providence  that  the  human  race  shall  realize  this  perfection, 
11  may  be  impossible  to  determine.  Certain  it  is,  that  it  can  never 
f>e  brought  about  by  any  mere  political  institutions,  by  checks  and 
counterchecks  of  interest,  by  any  balance  of  international  powers- 
Only  Christianity  can  effect  this  universal  brotherhood  of  nations, 
and' bind  the  human  family  together  in  a  rational,  that  is  a  free 
moral  society 


3tf  GExXERAL    HIS  FOR  V    OV    THS 

circumstances,  the  events,  the  revolutions  of  his  social  condi- 
tion. These  two  portions,  these  two  histories  of  civilization, 
are  strictly  connected  with  each  other  ;  they  are  the  counter- 
part, the  reflected  image  of  one  another.  They  may,  how- 
ever, be  separated.  Perhaps  it  is  necessary,  at  least  in  the 
beginning,  m  order  to  be  exposed  in  detail  and  with  clearness, 
that  they  should  be.  For  my  part  I  have  no  intention,  upon 
the  present  occasion  «o  enter  upon  the  history  of  civilization 
in  the  human  mind ;  the  history  of  the  exterior  events  of  the 
visible  and  social  world  is  that  to  which  I  shall  call  your  at 
tention.  It  would  give  me  pleasure  to  be  able  to  display  be- 
fore you  the  phenomenon  of  civilization  in  the  way  I  under- 
stand it,  in  all  its  bearings,  in  its  widest  extent — to  place  be- 
fore you  all  the  vast  questions  to  which  it  gives  rise.  But,  foi 
the  present,  I  must  restrain  my  wishes  ;  I  must  confine  my 
self  to  a  narrower  field :  it  is  only  the  history  of  the  social 
s^ate  that  I  shall  attempt  to  narrate. 
/  My  first  object  will  be  to  seek  out  the  elements  of  Eu- 
(  ropean  civilization  at  the  time  of  its  birth,  at  the  fall  of  the 
Roman  empire — to  examine  carefully  society  such  as  it  was 
in  the  midst  of  these  famous  ruins.  I  shall  endeavor  to  pick 
out  these  elements,  and  to  place  them  before  you,  side  by  side  ; 
1  shall  endeavor  to  put  them  in  motion,  and  to  follow  them  in 
their  progress  through  the  fifteen  centuries  which  have  rolled 
away  since  that  epoch. 

CWe  shall  not,  I  think,  proceed  far  in  this  study,  without 
being  convinced  that  civilization  is  still  in  its  infancy.  Hovi 
distant  is  the  human  mind  from  the  perfection  to  which  it  may 
attain — from  the  perfection  for  which  it  was  created !  How 
incapable  are  we  of  grasping  the  whole  future  destiny  of  man  ! 
Let  any  one  even  descend  into  his  own  mind — let  him  picture 
there  the  highest  point  of  perfection  to  which  man,  to  which  so- 
ciety may  attain,  that  he  can  conceive,  that  he  can  hope  ; — lei 
him  then  contrast  this  picture  with  the  present  state  oi  the 
world,  and  he  will  feel  assured  that  society  and  civilization 
ure  still  in  their  childhood  :  that  however  great  the  distance 
they  have  advanced,  that  which  they  have  before  them  io  in 
comparably,  is  infinitely  greater.  This,  however,  should  not 
lessen  the  pleasure  with  which  we  contemplate  our  present 
condition.  When  you  have  run  over  with  me  the  great  epochs 
ol  civilization  during  the  last  fifteen  centuries,  you  will  see, 
up  To  our  time,  how  painful,  how  stormy,  has  been  the  condi- 
tion of  man  ;  how  hard  has  been  his  lot,  not  only  out  vardlj 


v'lVn.i/AI'ION    OF    MOO SEN     EUROPE.  83 

•is  regards  society,  but  internally,  as  regards  the  intellectual 
man.  Fot  fifteen  centuries  the  human  mind  has  suilered  a* 
much  as  the  human  race.  You  will  see  that  it  is  only  lately 
that  the  human  mind,  perhaps  lor  the  first  time,  baa  arrived, 
imperfect  though  its  condition  still  be,  to  a  state  where  some 
a,  some  harmony,  some  freedom  is  found.  The  same 
holds  with  regard  to  society — its  immense  progress  is  evident 
— the  condition  of  man,  compared  with  what  it  has  been,  in 
easy  and  just.  In  thinking  of  our  ancestors  we  may  almost 
apply  to  ourselves  the  verses  of  Lucretius  : — 

"Suave  mari  magno,  turbantibus  aequora  ventis, 
E  terra  magnum  alterius  spcctaie  laborem." 

Without  any  great  degree  of  pride  we  may,  as  Sthenelas  is 

made  tO  do  111    Homer,  Hj««<   rol  narlpov  pcy    &{tivovt$  tu^o^efl'  (ivav,\ 

4  Keturn  thanks  to  God  that  we  are  ir  finitely  better  than  our  ) 
fathers."  -/ 

We  must,  however,  take  care  not  to  deliver  ourselves  up  too 
fully  to  a  notion  of  our  happiness  and  our  improved  condition 
It  may  lead  us  into  two  serious  evils,  pride  and  inactivity ; — ■ 
it  may  give  us  an  overweening  confidence  in  the  power  and 
success  of  the  human  mind,  of  its  present  attainments ;  and, 
at  the  same  time,  dispose  us  to  apathy,  enervated  by  the  agree- 
ableness  of  our  condition.  I  know  not  if  this  strikes  you  as 
it  does  me,  but  in  my  judgment  we  continually  oscillate  be- 
tween an  inclination  to  complain  without  sufficient  cause,  and 
to  be  too  easily  satisfied.  We  have  an  extreme  susceptibility 
of  mind,  an  inordinate  craving,  an  ambition  in  our  thoughts,  in 
our  desires,  and  in  the  movements  of  our  imagination  ;  yet 
when  we  come  to  practical  life — when  trouble,  when  sacrifi- 
ces, when  efforts  are  required  for  the  attainment  of  our  object, 
we  sink  into  lassitude  and  inactivity.  We  are  discouraged 
almost  as  easily  as  we  had  been  excited.  Let  us  not,  how- 
ever, suffer  ourselves  to  be  invaded  by  either  of  these  vices. 
Let  us  estimate  fairly  what  our  abilities,  our  knowledge,  our 
power  enable  us  to  do  lawfully  ;  and  let  us  aim  at  nothing  that 
we  cannot  lawfully,  justly,  prudently — with  a  proper  respect 
to  the  great  principles  upon  which  our  social  system,  our  civi- 
lization is  based — attain.  The  age  of  barbarian  Europe,  with 
its  brute  force,  its  violence,  its  lies  and  deceit, — the  habitual 
prac.icc  under  which  Europe  groaned  during  four  or  five  cen- 
turies gto  passed  away  for  ever,  and  has  given  place  to  a  bet 


34  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF    CIVILIZATION. 

ter  order  of  things.  We  trust  that  the  time  now  approaches 
when  man's  condition  shall  be  progressively  improved  by  the 
foice  of  reason  and  truth,  when  the  brute  part  of  nature  shall 
be  crushed,  that  the  godlike  spirit  may  unfold.  In  the  mean 
time  let  us  be  cautious  that  no  vague  desires,  that  no  extrava- 
gant theories,  the  time  for  which  may  not  yet  be  come,  carry 
us  beyond  the  bounds  of  prudence,  or  beget  in  us  a  discon 
tent  with  our  present  state.  To  us  much  has  been  given,  of 
as  much  will  be  required.  Posterity  will  demand  a  strict  ac- 
count of  our  conduct — the  public,  the  government,  all  is  now 
open  to  discussion,  to  examination.  Let  us  then  attach  our 
selves  firmly  to  the  principles  of  our  civilization,  to  justice,  to 
the  laws,  to  liberty :  and  never  forget,  that,  if  we  have  the 
light  to  demand  that  all  things  shall  be  laid  open  before  us, 
and  judged  by  us,  we  likewise  are  before  the  world,  who  wiM 
examine  us,  and  judge  us  according  to  our  works. 


LECTURE  II" 

OP     Lilian  KAN     CIVILIZATION     IN     PARTICULAR  I     ITS     DiyTIN 

UOISHINO    CHARACTERISTICS ITS    SUPERIORITY 118    ELK 

KF.NT8. 

In  the  preceding  Lecture,  I  endeavored  to  give  an  expla- 
nation of  civilization  in  general.  Without  referring  to  any 
civilization  in  particular,  or  to  circumstances  of  time  and  place 
I  essayed  to  place  it  before  you  in  a  point  of  view  purely  phi- 
losophical. I  purpose  now  to  enter  upon  the  History  of  the 
Civilization  of  Europe ;  but  before  doing  so,  before  going 
into  its  proper  history,  I  must  make  you  acquainted  with  the 
peculiar  character  of  this  civilization — with  its  distinguishing 
features,  so  that  you  may  be  able  to  recognise  and  distinguish 
European  civilization  from  every  other. 

When  we  look  at  the  civilizations  which  have  preceded  thai 
of  modern  Europe,  whether  in  Asia  or  elsewhere,  including 
even  those  of  Greece  and  Rome,  it  is  impossible  not  to  be, 
ctruck  with  the  unity  of  character  which  reigns  among  them.] 
Each  appears  as  though  it  had  emanated  from  a  single  fact, 
from  a  single  idea.  One  might  almost  assert  that  society  was 
under  the  influence  of  one  single  principle,  which  universally 
prevailed  and  determined  the  character  of  its  institutions,  it? 
manners,  its  opinions — in  a  word,  all  its  developments. 

In  Egypt,  for  example,  it  was  the  theocratic  principle  thatf\ 
iook  possession  of  society,  and  showed  itself  in  its  manners,  ) 
m  its  monuments,  and  in  all  that  has  come  down  to  us  of 
Egyptian  civilization.    In  India  the  same  phenomenon  occurs 
— it  is  still  a  repe.  tion  of  the  almost  exclusively  prevailing 

*  This  lecture,  in  the  original,  is  introduced  by  a  few  words,  in 
which  the  author  offers  to  explain  privately  any  points  of  his  dis- 
course, not  well  understood;  to  such  as  shall  apply ;  also  to  state 
that  he  is  obliged  frequently  to  make  assertions  without  being 
able,  from  the  short  time  alloUed  to  him,  to  give  the  proofs  the\ 
*H?eni  to  require. 


5l»  GENERAL    HI?  rrj*4Y    Of 

influence  of  theocracy.  In  other  regions  a  different  argauizs 
don  may  be  observed — perhaps  the  domination  of  a  conquer 
ing  caste  :  and  where  such  is  \he  case,  the  principle  of  force 
fakes  entire  possession  of  society,  imposing  upon  it  its  law* 
and  its  character.  In  another  place,  perhaps,  we  discovei 
society  under  the  entire  influence  of  the  democratic  principle : 
such  was  the  case  in  the  commercial  republics  which  covered 
the  coasts  of  Asia  Minor  and  Syria — in  Ionia  and  Phoenicia 
In  a  word,  whenever  we  contemplate  the  civilizations  of 
ilie  ancients,  we  find  them  all  impressed  with  one  ever-pre- 
vailing character  of  unity,  visible  in  their  institutions,  theii 
ideas,  and  manners — one  sole,  or  at  least  one  very  prepon- 
derating influence,  seems  tc  govern  and  determine  all  things. 

I  do  not  mean  to  aver  that  this  overpowering  influence  of 
one  single  principle,  of  one  single  form,  prevailed  without 
any  exception  in  the  civilization  of  those  states.  If  we  go 
back  to  their  earliest  history,  we  shall  find  that  the  various 
powers  which  dwelt  in  the  bosom  of  these  societies  fre- 
quently struggled  for  mastery.  Thus  among  the  Egyptians, 
r  he  Etruscans,  even  among  the  Greeks  and  others,  we  may 
observe  the  warrior  caste  struggling  against  that  of  the 
priests.  In  other  places  we  find  the  spirit  of  clanship  strug- 
gling against  the  spirit  of  free  association,  the  spirit  of  aristo- 
cracy against  popular  rights.  These  struggles,  however,  mostly 
:ook  place  in  periods  beyond  the  reach  of  history,  and  no  evi- 
lence  of  them  is  left  beyond  a  vague  tradition. 

Sometimes,  indeed,  these  early  struggles  broke  out  afresh 
it  a  later  period  in  the  history  of  the  nations  ;  but  in  almost 
every  case  they  were  quickly  terminated  by  the  victory  of  one 
if  the  powers  which  sought  to  prevail,  and  which  then  took 
sole  possession  of  society.  The  war  always  ended  by  the 
domination  of  some  special  principle,  which,  if  not  exclusive, 
it  least  greatly  preponderated.  The  co-existence  and  strife 
:»f  various  principles  among  these  nations  were  no  more  than 
i  passing,  an  accidental  circumstance. 

From  this  cause  a  remarkable  unity  characterizes  most  of 
die  civilizations  of  antiquity,  the  results  of  which,  however 
were  very  different.  In  one  nation,  as  in  Greece,  the  unity 
)f  the  social  principle  led  to  a  development  of  wonderful  ra 
pidity;  no  other  people  ever  ran  so  brilliant  a  career  in  so 
short  a  time.  But  Greece  had  hardly  become  glorious,  before 
she  appeared  worn  out :  her  decline,  if  not  quite  so  rapid  up 


( 


I  [UN     |H     MODERN     I  81 

icr  rise,  was  strangely  sudden.  It  secm3  as  if  the  principle 
which  called  Greek  civilization  into  life  was  exhausted.  N< 
other  came  to  invigorate  it,  or  supply  its  place. 

In  other  states,  say,  for  example,  in  India  and  Egypt,  where 
again  only  one  principle  of  civilization  prevailed,  the  result 
was  different.  Society  here  became  stationary ;  simplicity 
produced  monotony  ;  the  country  was  not  destroyed ;  society 
continued  to  exist ;  but  there  was  no  progression  ;  it  remained 
torpid  and  inactive. 

To  this  same  cause  must  be  attributed  that  character  of  ty- 
ranny which  prevailed,  under  various  names,  and  the  mosl 
opposite  forms,  in  all  tho  civilizations  of  antiquity.  Society 
belonged  to  one  exclusive  power,  which  could  bear  with  nn 
other.  Every  principle  of  a  different  tendency  was  proscrib- 
ed. The  governing  principle  would  nowhere  suffer  by  ite 
side  the  manifestation  and  influence  of  a  rival  principle. 

This  character  of  simplicity,  of  unity,  in  their  civilization, 
is  equally  impressed  upon  their  literature  and  intellectual  pro- 
ductions. Who  that  has  run  over  the  monuments  of  Hindoo 
literature  lately  introduced  into  Europe,  but  has  seen  that  they 
are  all  struck  from  the  same  die  ?  They  all  seem  the  result 
of  one  same  fact ;  the  expression  of  one  same  idea.  Re- 
ligious and  moral  treatises,  historical  traditions,  dramatic  po- 
etry, epics,  all  bear  the  same  physiognomy.  The  same  charac  - 
tcr  of  unity  and  monotony  shines  out  in  these  works  of  mind 
and  fancy,  as  we  discover  in  their  life  and  institutions.  Even 
in  Greece,  notwithstanding  the  immense  stores  of  knowledge 
and  intellect  which  it  poured  forth,  a  wonderful  unity  still  pre- 
vailed in  all  relating  to  litr rature  and  the  arts, 

How  different  to  all  this  is  the  case  as  respects  the  civili  , 
/.ation  of  modern  Europe  !  Take  ever  so  rapid  a  glance  at 
this,  and  it  strikes  you  at  once  as  diversified,  confused,  and 
olormy.  All  the  principles  of  social  organization  are  found 
twisting  together  within  it ;  powers  temporal,  powers  spirit- 
ual, the  theocratic,  monarchic,  aristocratic,  and  democratic 
elements,  all  classes  of  society,  all  the  social  situations,  art 
jumbled  together,  and  visible  within  it ;  as  well  as  infinite 
gradations  of  liberty,  of  wealth,  and  of  influence.  These  ra- 
noua  powers,  too,  are  found  here  in  a  state  of  continual  struggle 
imong  themselves,  without  any  one  having  sufficient  force  to 


38  DINER A L    HISTORY     OP 

master  the  others,  and  take  sole  possession  of  society.  Amon^ 
the  ancients,  a*  every  great  epoch,  all  communities  seem  cant 
m  the  same  mould  :  it  was  now  pure  monarchy,  now  theocrac} 
or  democracy,  that  became  the  reigning  principle,  each  in  it!? 
turn  reigning  absolutely.  But  modern  Europe  contains  ex 
amples  of  all  Jiese  systems,  of  all  the  attempts  at  social  01- 
l  ganization;  pure  and  mixed  monarchies,  theocracies,  republics 
more  or  less  aristocratic,  all  live  in  common,  side  by  side,  at 
one  and  the  same  tjjne  ;  yet,  notwithstanding  their  diversity, 
they  all  bear  a  certain  resemblance  to  each  other,  a  kind  of 
family- likeness  which  it  is  impossible  to  mistake,  and  which 
shows  them  to  be  essentially  European 

In  the  moral  character,  in  the  notions  and  sentiments  of 
\  Europe,  we  find  the  same  variety,  the  same  struggle.  Theo- 
cratical  opinions,  monarchical  opinions,  aristocratic  opinions 
democratic  opinions,  cross  and  jostle,  struggle,  become  inter- 
woven, limit,  and  modify  each  other.  Open  the  boldest  trea- 
tises of  the  middle  age  :  in  none  of  them  is  an  opinion  carried 
to  its  final  consequences.  The  advocates  of  absolute  power 
Jinch,  almost  unconsciously,  from  the  results  to  which  their 
Joctrine  would  carry  them.  We  see  that  the  ideas  and  influ- 
ences around  them  frighten  them  from  pushing  it  to  its  utter- 
most point.  Democracy  felt  the  same  control.  That  imper- 
turbable boldness,  so  striking  in  ancient  civilizations,  nowhere 
found  a  place  in  the  European  system.  In  sentiments  we 
discover  the  same  contrasts,  the  same  variety ;  an  indomita- 
ble taste  for  independence  dwelling  by  the  side  of  the  greatest 
aptness  for  submission ;  a  singular  fidelity  between  man  and 
man,  and  at  the  same  time  an  imperious  desire  in  each  to  do 
his  own  will,  to  shake  off  all  restraint,  to  live  alone,  without 
troubling  himself  with  the  rest  of  the  world.  Minds  were  a« 
/  much  diversified  as  society. 

The  same  characteristic  is  observable  in  literature.  It 
cannot  be  denied  that  in  what  relates  to  the  form  and  beauty 
ui  art,  modern  Europe  is  very  inferior  to  antiquity  ;  but  if  we 
look  at  her  literature  as  regards  depth  of  feeling  and  ideas,  it 
will  be  found  more  powerful  and  rich.  The  human  mind  has 
been  employed  upon  a  greater  number  of  objects,  its  labor* 
have  been  more  diversified,  it  has  gone  to  a  greater  depth 
Fts  imperfection  in  form  is  owing  to  this  very  cause.  The 
more  plenteou3  and  rich  the  materials,  the  greater  is  the  dif" 


I  'vii. tza  riOK    IH    NODI  RN    IDJtUPK 

heulty  of  forcing  them  into  a  pure  and  simple  form.  Thai 
which  gives  beauty  to  a  composition,  that  which  in  works  of 
wrt  we  call  form,  is  the  clearness,  the  simplicity,  the  symbo- 
lical unity  of  the  work.  With  the  prodigious  diversity  of 
ideas  and  sentiments  which  belong  to  European  civilization, 
the  difficulty  to  attain  this  grand  and  chaste  simplicity  ha." 
bean  increased. 

In  every  part,  then,  we  find  this  character  of  variety  to  pre 
vail  in  modern  civilization.     It  has  undoubtedly  brought  with 
TtlKis  inconvenience,  that  when  we  consider  separately  any 
particular  development  of  the  human  mind  in  literature,  in  the 
arts,  in  any  of  the  ways  in  which  human  intelligence  may  go         ■  ■ . , 
forward,  we  shall  generally  find  it  inferior  to  the  correspond- 
ing development  in  the  civilization  of  antiquity  ;  but,  as  a  set- 
off to  this,  when  we  regard  it  as  a  whole,  European  civiliza- 
tion appears  incomparably  more  rich  and  diversified  :  if  each 
particular  fruit  has  not  attained  the  same  perfection,  it  has 
ripened  an  infinitely  greater  variety.     Again,  European  civil- 
ization has  now  endured  fifteen  centuries,  and  in  all  that  time 
it  has  been  in  a  state  of  progression.     It  may  be  true  that  ill 
has  not  advanced  so  rapidly  as  the  Greek ;  but,  catching  new  \ 
impulses  at  every  step,  it  is  still  advancing.    An  unbounded  ca-  J 
reer  is  open  before  it ;  and  from  day  to  day  it  presses  forward  1 
to  the  race  with  increasing  rapidity,  because  increased  free-/ 
dom  attends  upon  all  its  movements.     While  in  other  civiliza- 
tions the  exclusive  domination,  or  at  least  the  excessive  pre- 
ponderance of  a  single  principle,  of  a  single  form,  led  to  ty- 
ranny, in  modern  Europe  the  diversity  of  the  elements  of  so- 
cial order,  the  incapability  of  any  one  to  exclude  the  rest, 
gave  birth  to  the  liberty  which  now  prevails.     The  inability 
of  the  various  principles  to  exterminate  one  another  compelled 
each  to  endure  the  others,  made  it  necessary  for  them  to  live 
in  common,  for  them  to  enter  into  a  sort  of  mutual  understand- 
ing.    Each  consented  to  have  only  that  part- of  civilization 
which  fell  to  its  share.     Thus,  while  everywhere  else  the\ 
predominance  of  one  principle  has  produced  tyranny,  the 
variety  of  elements  of  European  civilization,  and  the  constant 
warfare  in  which  they  have  been  engaged,  have  given  birth  in 
Europe  to  that  liberty  which  we  prize  so  dearly. 

It  is  this  which  gives  to  European  civilization  its  real,  its  \ 
immense,  superiority — it  is  ♦.his  which  forms  its  essential,  it? 


40  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

('distinctive  character.  And  if,  carrying  our  views  still  furthci 
we  penetrate  beyond  the  surface  into  the  very  nature  of  things 
we  shall  find  that  this  superiority  is  legitimate — that  it  is  ac 
knowledged  by  reason  as  well  as  proclaimed  by  facts.  Quit- 
ting for  a  moment  European  civilization,  and  taking  a  glanc. 
at  the  world  in  general,  at  the  common  course  of  earthU 
things,  what  is  the  character  we  find  it  to  bear  1  What  dc 
we  here  perceive  1  Why  just  that  very  same  diversity,  that 
very  same  variety  of  elements,  that  very  same  struggle  which 
is  so  strikingly  evinced  in  European  civilization.  It  is  plain 
enough  that  no  single  principle,  no  particular  organization,  no 
simple  idea,  no  special  power  has  ever  been  permitted  to  ob- 
tain possession  of  the  world,  to  mould  it  into  a  durable  form, 
and  to  drive  from  it  every  opposing  tendency,  so  as  to  reign 
itself  supreme.  Various  powers,  principles,  and  systems  here 
intermingle,  modify  one  another,  and  struggle  incessantly — 
now  subduing,  now  subdued — never  wholly  conquered,  never 
conquering.  Such  is  apparently  the  general  state  of  the  world, 
while  diversity  of  forms,  of  ideas,  of  principles,  their  strug- 
gles and  their  energies,  all  tend  towards  a  certain  unity, 
certain  ideal,  which,  though  perhaps  it  may  never  be  at- 
tained, mankind  is  constantly  approaching  by  dint  of  liberty 
and  labor.     Hence  European  civilization  is  the  reflected  im- 

rage  of  the  world — like  the  course  of  earthly  things,  it  is  nei- 
ther narrowly  circumscribed,  exclusive,  nor  stationary.  For 
the  first  time,  civilization  appears  to  have  divested  itself  of 
its  special  character  :  its  development  presents  itself  for  the 
first  time  under  as  diversified,  as  abundant,  as  laborious  an 
aspect  as  the  great  theatre  of  the  universe  itself. 

European  civilization  has,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  expres- 
sion, at  last  penetrated  into  the  ways  of  eternal  truth — into 
the  scheme  of  Providence  ; — it  moves  in  the  ways  which 
God  has  prescribed.  This  is  the  rational  principle  of  its 
superiority. 

Let  it  not,  I  beseech  you,  be  forgotten — bear  in  mind,  a& 
w  r.  proceed  with  these  lectures,  that  it  is  in  this  diversity  of 
elements,  and  their  constant  struggle,  that  the  essential  char- 
acter of  our  civilization  consists.  At  present  I  can  do  no  more 
fjian  assert  this ;  its  proof  will  be  found  in  the  facts  I  shal! 
bring  before  you.  Still  I  think  you  will  acknowledge  it  to  b»> 
%  confirmation  of  this  assertion,  if  I  can  show  you  that  the 
causes,  and  the  elements  of  the  character  which  I  havo  \\\si 


vi\in/.\rio.\    i\    HOD  BUM    EVROPR.  H 

attributed  1o  it,  can  !:e  triced  to  the  very  cradle  of  our  civiliza- 
tion. If,  i  say,  at  the  very  moment  ol*  her  birth,  at  the  very 
nour  in  which  the  Roman  empire  Tell,  I  CM  show  you,  in  the 
state  of  the  world,  the  circumstances  which,  from  the  begin* 
ning,  have  concurred  to  give  to  European  civilization  tha* 
agitated  and  diversified,  hut  at  the  same  time  prolific  charac- 
ter which  distinguishes  it,  I  think  I  shall  have  a  strong  claim 
upon  your  assent  to  its  truth.  In  order  to  accomplish  this,  I 
Snail  begin  by  investigating  the  condition  of  Europe  at  the 
fall  of  the  Roman  empire,  so  that  we  may  discover  in  its  in- 
stitutions, in  its  opinions,  its  ideas,  its  sentiments,  what  wore 
the  elements  which  the  ancient  world  bequeathed  to  the  mo- 
dern. And  upon  these  elements  you  will  see  strongly  impres- 
sed the  character  which  I  have  just  described. 


It  is  necessary  that  we  should  first  see  what  the  Roman 
empire  was,  and  how  it  was  formed. 

Rome  in  its  origin  was  a  mere  municipality,  a  corporation. 
The  Roman  government  was  nothing  more  than  an  assem- 
blage of  institutions  suitable  to  a  population  enclosed  within 
the  walls  of  a  city ;  that  is  to  say,  they  were  municipal  insti- 
tutions ; — this  was  their  distinctive  character. 

This  was  not  peculiar  to  Rome.  If  we  look,  in  this  period, 
at  the  part  of  Italy  which  surrounded  Rome,  we  find  nothing 
but  cities.  What  were  then  called  nations  were  nothing  more 
than  confederations  of  cities.  The  Latin  nation  was  a  con- 
federation of  Latin  cities.  The  Etrurians,  the  Samnites,  the 
Sabines,  the  nations  of  Magna  Graecia,  were  all  composed  in 
♦he  same  way. 

At  this  time  there  were  no  country  places,  no  villages  ;  at 
least  the  country  was  nothing  like  what  it  is  in  the  present 
day.  It  was  cultivated,  no  doubt,  but  it  was  not  peopled.  The 
oroprietors  of  lands  and  of  country  estates  dwelt  in  cities ; 
they  left  these  occasionally  to  visit  their  rural  property,  where 
they  usually  kept  a  certain  number  of  slaves ;  but  that  which 
we  now  call  the  country,  that  scattered  population,  sometimes 
in  lone  houses,  sometimes  in  hamlets  and  villages,  and  which 
everywhere  dDts  our  land  with  agricultural  dwellings,  was  al- 
together unknown  in  ancient  Italy. 

And  what  was  the  case  when  Rome  extended  her  bounds- 


42  OFNERAL    HISIORV    O* 

ties  ?  If*  we  follow  her  history,  we  shall  find  that  she  eon 
,quered  or  founded  a  host  of  cities.  It  was  with  cities  she 
fought,  it  was  with  cities  she  treated,  it  was  into  cities  she 
sent  colonies.  In  short,  the  history  of  the  conquest  of  the 
world  by  Rome  is  the  history  of  the  conquest  and  foundation 
of  a  vast  number  of  cities.  It  is  true  that  in  the  East  the  ex- 
tension of  the  Roman  dominion  bore  somewhat  of  a  different 
character  •  die  population  was  not  distributed  there  in  tin* 
same  way  as  in  the  western  world ;  it  was  under  a  social  sys- 
tem, partaking  more  of  the  patriarchal  form,  and  was  conse- 
quently much  less  concentrated  in  cities  But,  as  we  have 
only  to  do  with  the  population  of  Europe,  I  thall  not  dwell 
upon  what  relates  to  that  of  the  East 

Confining  ourselves,  then,  to  the  West,  we  shall  find  the 
fact  to  be  such  as  I  have  described  it.  In  the  Gauls,  in 
Spain,  we  meet  with  nothing  but  cities.  At  any  distance  from 
these,  the  country  consisted  of  marshes  and  forests.  Examine 
the  character  of  the  monuments  left  us  of  ancient  Rome — the 
old  Roman  roads.  We  find  great  roads  extending  from  city 
to  city  ;  but  the  thousands  of  little  by-paths,  which  now  inter- 
sect every  part  of  the  country,  were  then  unknown.  Neither 
do  we  find  any  traces  of  that  immense  number  of  lesser  oh 
jects — of  churches,  castles,  country-seats,  and  villages,  whi«,li 
were  spread  all  over  the  country  during  the  middle  ages. 
Rome  has  left  no  traces  of  this  kind ;  her  only  bequest  con- 
sists of  vast  monuments  impressed  with  a  municipal  charac- 
ter, destined  for  a  numerous  population,  crowded  into  a  single 
spot.  In  whatever  point  of  view  you  consider  the  Roman 
world,  you  meet  with  this  almost  exclusive  preponderance  of 
cities,  and  an  absence  of  country  populations  and  dwellings 
This  municipal  character  of  the  Roman  world  evidently  ren 
dered  the  unity,  the  social  tie  of  a  great  state,  extremely  diffi- 
cult to  establish  and  maintain. 


/  A  municipal  corporation  like  Rome  might  be  able  to  con 
/  rjuer  the  world,  but  it  was  a  much  more  difficult  task  to  govern 
I  it,  to  mould  it  into  one  compact  body.  Thus,  when  the  work 
seemed  done,  when  all  the  West,  and  a  great  part  of  the 
East,  had  submitted  to  the  Roman  yoke,  we  find  an  immense 
aost  of  cities,  of  little  states  formed  for  separate  existence 
ind  independence,  breaking    heir  chains,  escaping  on  every 


CIVILIZATION     IN    HO  HOPh 


nde.      Tins  was  one  of  the  causes  which  made  tin*  Mtttbtadft 
ment  of  the  *"npiie  necessary  ;  which  called  lor  a  mure  con 

centrated  foro  of  government,  ona  better  able  to  hold  togethei 

dements  which  had  so  few  points  of  cohesion.  The  empire 
endeavored  to  unite  and  to  bind  together  this  extensive  and 
scattered  society;  and  to  a  certain  point  it  succeeded.  Be- 
tween the  reigns  of  Augustus  and  Dioclesian,  during  the  very 
time  that  her  admirable  civil  legislation  was  being  carried  to 
perfection,  that  vast  and  despotic  administration  was  establibh- 
cd,  which,  spreading  over  the  empire  a  sort  of  chain-work  of 
functionaries  subordmately  arranged,  firmly  knit  together  the 
people  and  the  imperial  court,  serving  at  the  same  time  to  con- 
vey to  society  the  will  of  the  government,  and  to  bring  to  tho 
government  the  tribute  and  obedience  of  society.3 

2  Dioclesian,  A.  D.  284,  must  be  regarded  as  the  first  who  at- 
tempted to  substitute  a  regularly  organized  system  of  oriental 
monarchy,  with  its  imposing  ceremonial,  and  its  long  gradation  of 
dignities,  proceeding  from  the  throne  as  the  centre  of  all  authority 
and  the  source  of  all  dignity,  in  place  of  the  former  military  despot- 
ism, supported  only  upon,  and  therefore  always  at  the  mercy  of, 
the  pretorian  guards. 

This  system  was  still  further  perfected  by  Constantine  the 
Great,  A.  D.  324,  who  introduced  several  important  changes  into 
the  constitution  of  the  empire. 

He  divided  the  empire  into  four  great  prefectures;  the  East, 
Illyricum;  Italy;  and  Gaul. 

The  four  pretorian  prefects  created  by  Dioclesian  were  retained 
by  Constantine;  but  with  a  very  material  change  in  their  powers. 
He  deprived  them  of  all  military  command,  and  made  them  merely 
civil  governors  in  the  four  prefectures. 

He  consolidated  still  more  his  monarchical  system  by  an  organi- 
sation of  ecclesiastical  dignities  corresponding  with  the  gradations 
of  the  civil  administration. 

This  system  continued  substantially  unchanged  at  the  division  oi 
the  empire,  A.  D.  395,  and  was  perpetuated  after  that  period. 

Each  of  the  empires  was  divided  into  two  prefectures,  and  the 
prefectures  into  diocesses,  in  the  following  manner: 


Prefect  urea. 

Diocesses. 

EASTERN 

Rammx. 

L  The  East.   ■ 

fl.  The  East. 

2.  Egypt. 

3.  Asia  Minor. 

4.  Pontus. 

5.  Thrace. 

n   T  (1.  Macedonia  (all  Greece). 

U    iLLVTItrUM.     [  2<  ^^  (whhm  thc  0m£uei 


14 


GENERAL     HiSIOfl*     OF 


I 


Thio  system,  besides  rallying  the  forces,  a.-d  hollin^  kv 
gether  the  elements,  of  the  Roman  world,  introduced  wuli 
wonderful  celerity  into  society  a  taste  for  despotism,  for  ecu 
tral  power.  It  is  truly  astonishing  to  see  how  rapidly  this  in- 
coherent assemblage  of  little  republics,  this  association  of 
municipal  corporations,  sunk  into  an  humble  and  obedient 
respect  for  the  sacred  name  of  emperor.     The  necessity  for 


Prefectures.         Diocesses. 
{  ( 1.  Italy. 


Western 
Empire. 


\ 


I.  Italy.     J  2.  Illyria  (Pannonia,  etc.). 
i  3.  Africa. 

!1.  Spain. 
2.  The  Gauls. 
3.  Britain. 


Each  of  these  diocesses  was  divided  into  provinces,  of  which  m 
both  empires  there  were  one  hundred  and  seventeen ;  and  the  pro- 
vinces into  cities. 

Imperial  Administration. 

Household. — The  court  officers  were  :  the  Grand  Chamberlain  , 
two  Captains  of  the  Guard ;  Master  of  the  Offices ;  Quaestor  or 
Chancellor;  Keeper  of  the  Privy  Purse  {comes  rerum  privatarum), 
whose  functions  are  to  be  distinguished  from  those  of  the  Minister 
of  the  public  treasury. 

Provincial  administration. — In  each  prefecture  a  Prefectus  pre- 
lorio,  at  the  head  of  the  civil  administration.  In  each  diocess  a 
Vicar  of  the  prefect.  In  each  province  a  President.  The  cities 
were  governed  by  Duumvirs  and  a  Defensor. 

Military  organization. — After  the  Guards  and  Household  troops, 
ranked  the  legions  and  the  auxiliaries.  These  were  commanded 
in  each  prefecture  by  a  Major  General  of  the  Militia  ;  a  command- 
er of  the  cavalry,  a  commander  of  the  infantry ;  military  dukeu 
and  counts,  legionary  prefects,  etc. 

Judiciary. — Cases  of  special  importance  reserved  for  the  emperor 
were  decided  by  the  quaestor ;  ordinary  matters  by  various  magir.- 
Jrates,  according  to  their  relative  magnitude.  An  appeal  lay  from 
the  defensor  „o  the  duumvirs,  from  the  duumvirs  to  the  president, 
from  the  president  to  the  vicar,  from  the  vicar  to  the  prefectus  pro- 
torio. 

Finances. — The  revenues  were  passed,  by  the  collectors  of  cities, 
into  the  hands  of  the  provincial  receivers,  and  thence,  through  a 
higher  grade  of  treasurers,  to  the  minister  o:' the  public  treasurv.— 
V«rf.  Dcs  Miche.'.s,  Hist,  d  i  Moyen  Age. 


CIVILISATION    IN    MODERN    RUROPI  15 

•  tibiblithing  some  tie  between  all  theso  parts  of  the  Roman 

irorld  must  have  been  rery  apparent  and  powerful,  otherwise 
we  can  hardly  conceive  how  the  spirit  of  despotism  could  so 
easily  have  made  its  way  into  the  minds  and  almost  into  the 
ilfoctions  of  the  people. 


It  was  with  tliis  spirit,  with  this  administrative  organiza- 
tion, and  with  the  military  system  connected  with  it,  that  tin 
Roman  empire  struggled  againsUthe  dissolution  which  was 
working  within  :'t,  and  against  the  barharians  who  attacked  it 
from  without.  But,  though  it  struggled  long,  the  day  at  length 
arrived  when  all  the  skill  and  power  of  despotism,  when  all 
the  pliancy  of  servitude,  was  insufficient  to  prolong  its  hle^ 
In  the  fourth  century,  all  the  ties  which  had  held  this  immense 
body  together  seem  to  have  been  loosened  or  snapped ;  the 
barbarians  broke  in  on  every  side  ;  the  provinces  no  longer 
resisted,  no  longer  troubled  themselves  with  the  general  des- 
tiny. At  this  crisis  an  extraordinary  idea  entered  the  minds 
of  one  or  two  of  the  emperors :  they  wished  to  try  whether 
the  hope  of  general  liberty,  whether  a  confederation,  a  sys- 
tem something  like  what  we  now  call  the  representative  sys- 
tem, would  not  better  defend  the  Roman  empire  than  the  des- 
potic administration  which  already  existed.  There  is  a  man- 
date of  Honorius  and  the  younger  Theodosius,  addressed,  in 
the  year  418,  to  the  prefect  of  Gaul,  the  object  of  which  was 
to  establish  a  sort  of  representative  government  in  the  south 
of  Gaul,  and  by  its  aid  still  to  preserve  the  unity  of  empire. 

Rescript  of  the  Emperors  Honorius  and  Theodosius  the  Younger^ 
tddressed,  in  the  year  418,  to  the  Prefect  of  the  Gauls,  residing  at 
A rlcs. 

"Honorius  and  Theodosius,  Augusti,  to  Agricoli,  Prefect  of  the 
Gauls. 

"  In  consequence  of  the  very  salutary  representadon  which  your 
Magnificence  has  made  to  us,  as  well  as  upon  other  information 
obviously  advantageous  to  the  republic,  we  decree,  in  order  that  they 
may  have  the  force  of  a  perpetual  law,  that  the  following  regula- 
t  oris  should  be  made,  and  that  obedience  should  be  paid  to  them 
1  f  the  inhabitants  of  our  seven  provinces,*  and  which  are  such  as 
t'\ey  themselves  should  wish  for  and  require.     Seeing  that  from 


*  V-.otu.e.  the  two  Aqrjtnmcfl.  N<>vcmpopulr\rw,  the  two  Narhoimes  «u>d  the  province 
of   hm  Maritime  A![»t 


40  GENERAL    HISTORY    O* 

motives,  both  of  punlic  and  private  utility,  responsible  persons  of 
special  deputies  should  be  sent,  not  only  by  each  province,  but  by 
each  city,  to  your  Magnificence,  not  only  to  render  up  accounts,  hut 
also  to  treat  of  such  matters  as  concern  the  interest  of  landed  prc>- 
prietors,  we  have  judged  that  it  would  be  both  convenient  an'i 
highly  advantageous  to  have  annually,  at  a  fixed  period,  and  to 
date  from  the  present  year,  an  assembly  for  the  inhabitants  of  the 
seven  provinces  held  in  the  Metropolis,  that  is  to  say,  in  the  city  of 
Aries.  By  this  institution  our  desire  is  to  provide  both  for  public 
and  private  interests.  First,  by  the  union  of  the  most  influential 
inhabitants  in  the  presence  of  their  illustrious  Prefect,  (unless 
he  should  be  absent  from  causes  affecting  public  order,)  and  by 
rheir  deliberations,  upon  every  subject  brought  before  them,  the 
best  possible  advice  will  be  obtained.  Nothing  which  shall  have 
been  treated  of  and  determined  upon,  after  a  mature  discussion, 
shall  be  kept  from  the  knowledge  of  the  rest  of  the  provinces;  and 
such  as  have  not  assisted  at  the  assembly  shall  be  bound  to  follow 
the  same  rules  of  justice  and  equity.  Furthermore,  by  ordaining 
that  an  assembly  should  be  held  every  year  in  the  city  of  Constan- 
rine,*  we  believe  that  we  are  doing  noi  only  what  will  be  advan- 
tageous to  the  public  welfare,  but  what  will  also  multiply  its  social 
relations.  Indeed,  this  city  is  so  favorably  situated,  foreigneis  re- 
sort to  it  in  such  large  numbers,  and  it  possesses  so  extensive  a 
commerce,  that  all  the  varied  productions  and  manufactures  of  the 
vest  of  the  world  are  to  be  seen  within  it.  All  that  the  opulent  East, 
ihe  perfumed  Arabia,  the  delicate  Assyria,  the  fertile  Africa,  the 
beautiful  Spain,  and  the  courageous  Gaul,  produce  worthy  of  note, 
abound  here  in  such  profusion,  that  all  things  admired  as  magnificent 
in  the  different  parts  of  the  world  seem  the  productions  of  its  own 
climate.  Further,  the  union  of  the  Rhone  and  the  Tuscan  sea  so 
facilitate  intercourse,  that  the  countries  which  the  former  traver- 
ses, and  the  latter  waters  in  its  winding  course,  are  made  almost 
neighbors.  Thus,  as  the  whole  earth  yields  up  its  most  esteemed 
productions  for  the  service  of  this  city,  as  the  particular  commodi- 
ties of  each  country  are  transported  to  it  by  land,  by  sea,  by  rivers, 
by  ships,  by  rafts,  by  wagons,  how  can  our  Gaul  fail  of  seeing  the 
great  benefit  we  confer  upon  it  by  convoking  a  public  assembly  to 
be  held  in  this  city,  upon  which,  by  a  special  gift,  as  it  were,  of 
Divine  Providence,  has  been  showered  all  the  enjoyments  of  life, 
and  all  the  facilities  for  commerce  ? 

"  The  illustrious  Prefect  Petroniusf  did,  some  time  ago,  with  c 
praiseworthy  and  enlightened  view,  ordain  (hat  this  custom  should 
be  observed;  but  ls  its  practice  was  interrupted  by  the  troubles 
if  the  times  and  the  reign  of  usurpers,  we  have  resolved  to  put  it 


*  C  jjutantine  the  Great  vas  singularly  partial  to  Aries  ;  it  was  he  who  made  it  Ihc 
*)f.t  of  the  prefecture  of  the  Gauls :  he  desired  alao  that  it  bhould  beux  his  caith? ;  !>o1 
mifctiHD  was  more  powerful  than  his  wi3. 

»  Puriocitu  wuf  Prefect  of  th«  Ga'ils  betwefu  402  and  40fi 


.  ivilizatiun    in    MUD  BIN    kUROPI.  4? 

ignin  in  force,  by  the  prudent  exercise  of  our  authority.  Thun. 
ti.tn,  dear  and  well-beloved  cousin  Agricoli,  your  Magnificent, 
conforming  to  oir  present  ordinance  and  the  custom  established  by 
your  predecessors,  will  cause  ihe  following  regulations  to  be  ol>- 
servrd  in  the  provinces: — 

"  It  will  be  necessary  to  make  known  unto  all  persons  honored 
vith  public  functions  or  proprietors  of  domains,  and  to  all  the  judg- 
es of  prrvmces,  that  they  must  attend  in  council  every  year  m  the 
,'ity  of  Aries,  between  the  Tdes  of  August  and  September,  the  days 
vocation  and  of  session  to  be  fixed  at  pleasure. 

"  Novempopulana  and  the  second  Aquitaine,  being  the  most  dis- 
tant provinces,  shall  have  the  power,  according  to  custom,  to  send, 
if  :heir  judges  should  be  detained  by  indispensable  duiies,  deputies 
in  their  stead. 

"Such  persons  as  neglect  to  attend  at  the  place  appointed,  and 
within  the  prescribed  period,  shall  pay  a  fine:  viz.,  judges,  five 
pounds  of  gold;  members  of  the  curiae  and  other  dignitaries,  three 
pounds.? 

"  By  this  measure  we  conceive  we  are  granting  great  advan- 
tages and  favor  to  the  inhabitants  of  our  provinces.  We  have  alsc 
the  certainty  of  adding  to  the  welfare  of  the  city  of  Aries,  to  the 
fidelity  of  which,  according  to  our  father  and  countryman,  we  owe 
so  much.t 

"Given  the  15th  of  the  calends  of  May;  received  at  Aries  the 
I Oth  of  the  calends  of  June." 

Notwithstanding  this  call,  the  provinces  and  cities  refused 
the  proffered  boon  ;  nobody  would  name  deputies,  none  would 
go  to  Aries.  This  centralization,  this  unity,  was  opposed  to 
the  primitive  nature  of  this  society.  The  spirit  of  locality, 
and  of  municipality,  everywhere  reappeared ;  the  impossi- 
oility  of  reconstructing  a  general  society,  of  building  up  the 
whole  into  one  general  state,  became  evident.  The  cities, 
confining  themselves  to  the  afTcirs  of  their  own  corporations, 
shut  themselves  up  within  their  own  walls,  and  the  empire 
fell,  because  none  would  belong  to  the  empire  ;  because  citi 
zens  wished  but  to  belong  to  their  city.  Thus  the  Roman 
empire,  at  its  fall,  was  resolved  into  the  elements  of  which 
it  had  been  composed,  and  the  preponderance  of  municipal 
rulo  and  government  was   again  everywhere  visible.     The 


*  Tie  municipal  corps  o*  Ihe  Roman  cities  were  called  cuki«,  and  the  m*».ilcw  lH 
these  joLch,  wl  i  wsie  very  numerous,  curiai.es. 
t  C  juxrnutiix  tl«  Sco»  u  I,  husband  of  Placidio,  wbon:  Honoris  h«J  token  for  Li«  col 


48  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

Roman  world  nad  been  formed  of  cities,  and  to  cities  again  it 
returned.4 

/  This  municipal  system  was  the  bequest  of  the  ancient  Roman 
civilization  to  modern  Europe.  It  had  no  doubt  become  fee- 
ble, irregular,  and  very  inferior  to  what  it  had  been  at  an  ear- 
lier period ;  but  it  was  the  only  living  principle,  the  only  one 
that  retained  any  form,  the  only  one  that  survived  the  general 
destruction  of  the  Roman  world. 

When  I  say  the  only  one,  I  mistake.  There  was  another 
phenomenon,  another  idea,  which  likewise  outlived  it.  I 
mean  the  remembrance  of  the  empire,  and  the  title  of  the  em- 
peror,— the  idea  of  imperial  majesty,  and  of  absolute  power 
attached  to  the  name  of  emperor.  It  must  be  observed, 
then,  that  the  two  elements  which  passed  from  the  Roman 
civilization  into  ours  were,  first,  the  system  of  municipal  cor- 
porations, its  habits,  its  regulations,  its  principle  o{  liberty-- 
a  general  civil  legislation,  common  to  all ;  secondly,  the  idea 
of  absolute  power  ; — the  principle  of  order  and  the  principle 
of  servitude. 


Meanwhile,  within  the  very  heart  of  Roman  society,  there 
had  grown  up  another  society  of  a  very  different  nature, 
founded  upon  different  principles,  animated  by  different  sen- 
timents, and  which  has  brought  into  European  civilization 
elements  of  a  widely  different  character:  I  speak  of  the 
Christian  church.  I  say  the  Christian  church,  and  not  Chris- 
tianity, between  which  a  broad  distinction  is  to  be  made.  At 
the  end  of  the  fourth  century,  and  the  beginning  of  the  fifth, 
Christianity  was  no  longer  a  simple  belief,  it  was  an  institu- 
tion— it  had  formed  itself  into  a  corporate  body.     It  had  its 

4  That  the  municipal  spirit  should  have  been  stronger  than  any 
more  general  sentiment  binding  the  citizens  to  the  empire,  was 
natural,  not  only  because  their  interests  were  more  immediately 
concerned  in  the  municipal  administration,  but  because  the  people 
had  some  voice  and  influence  in  the  government  of  the  cities,  while 
whey  had  none  in  the  general  government.  Though  the  municipal 
magistrates,  the  duumvirs  and  defensors,  were  a  part  of  that  vast 
chain  of  administrative  functionaries  proceeding  from  the  imperial 
throne,  and  linked  to  it,  yet  they  were  chosen  from  the  municipal 
senate  (decurions)  and  nominated  bv  the  people. 


ILIZATION    i\    KODKRN    EURO  40 

government,  a  body  of  priests  ;  ;i  settled  ec  al  polity 

for  tlio  regulation  of  their  different  functions;  revenues  ;  in 
dependent  means  of  influence.  It  had  the  rallying  point* 
suitable  to  a  great  society,  in  its  provincial,  national,  and  gen- 
eral councils,  in  which  were  wont  to  be  debated  in  common 
the  affairs  of  society.  In  a  word,  the  Christian  religion,  at 
lhi3  epoch,  was  no  longer  merely  a  religion,  it  was  a  church. 

Had  it  not  been  a  church,  it  is  hard  to  say  what  would 
hcvo  been  its  fate  in  the  general  convulsion  which  attended 
the  overthrow  of  the  Roman  empire.  Looking  only  to  world- 
ly means,  putting  out  of  the  question  the  aids  and  superin- 
tending power  of  Divine  Providence,  and  considering  only  the 
natural  effects  of  natural  causes,  it  would  be  difficult  to  say 
how  Christianity,  if  it  had  continued  what  it  was  at  first,  a  mere 
belief,  an  individual  conviction,  could  havo  withstood  the 
shock  occasioned  by  the  dissolution  of  the  Roman  empire  and 
the  invasion  of  the  barbarians.  At  a  later  period,  when  it  had 
even  become  an  institution,  an  established  church,  it  fell  in 
Asia  and  the  North  of  Africa,  upon  an  invasion  of  a  like  kind 
— that  of  the  Mohammedans  ;  and  circumstances  seem  to  point 
out  that  it  was  still  more  likely  such  would  have  been  its  fate 
at  the  fall  of  the  Roman  empire.  At  this  time  there  existed 
none  of  those  means  by  which  in  the  present  day  moral  infill 
ences  become  established  or  rejected  without  the  aid  of  insti 
tutions  ;  none  of  those  means  by  which  an  abstract  truth  nov- 
makes  way,  gains  an  authority  over  mankind,  governs  their 
actions,  and  directs  their  movements.  Nothing  of  this  kind 
existed  in  the  fourth  century ;  nothing  which  could  give  to  sim- 
ple ideas,  to  personal  opinions,  so  much  weight  and  power. 
Hence  I  think  it  may  be  assumed,  that  only  a  society  firmly 
established,  under  a  powerful  government  and  rules  of  disci- 
pline, could  hope  to  bear  up  amid  such  disasters — could  hope 
x>  weather  so  violent  a  storm.  I  think,  then,  humanly  speak-\ 
ing,  that  it  is  not  too  much  to  aver,  that  in  the  fourth  and  fi'th 
eenturies  it  was  the  Christian  church  that  saved  Christianity ;  r 
that  it  was  the  Christian  church,  with  its  institutions,  its 
magistiatcs,  its  authority — the  Christian  church,  which  strug- 
gled so  vigorously  to  prevent  the  interior  dissolution  of  the 
umpire,  which  struggled  against  the  barbarian,  and  which,  in 
.aa,  overcame  the  barbarian  ; — it  was  this  church,  I  say,  that 
oocame  the  great  connecting  link — the  principle  of  civilization 
oet*veen  the  Roman  and  the  barbarian    world.     It  is  the  statf 

3 


50  GENERAL     HISTORY    OF 

ol  the  church,  then,  rather  than  religion  strictly  understood,— 
rather  than  that  pure  and.  simple  faith  of  the  Gospel  which  all 
true  Delievers  must  regard  as  its  highest  triumph, — that  we 
must  Iook.  at  in  the  fifth  century,  in  order  to  discover  what  influ- 
ence Christianity  had  from  this  time  upon  modern  civilization, 
and  what  are  the  elements  it  has  introduced  into  it. 


Let  us  sec  what  at  this  epoch  the  Christian  church  retllf 
was. 

If  we  look,  still  in  an  entirely  worldly  point  of  view — if  wt 
look  at  the  changes  which  Christianity  underwent  from  ite 
first  rise  to  the  fifth  century — if  we  examine  it,  (still,  I  re- 
repeat,  not  in  a  religious,  but  solely  in  a  political  sense,)  we 
shall  find  that  it  passed  through  three  essentially  different 
states. 

In  its  infancy,  in  its  very  babyhood,  Christian  society  pre- 
sents itself  before  us  as  a  simple  association  of  men  possess- 
ing the  same  faith  and  opinions,  the  same  sentiments  and  feel- 
ings. The  first  Christians  met  to  enjoy  together  their  common 
emotions,  their  common  religious  convictions.  At  this  time 
we  find  no  settled  form  of  doctrine,  no  settled  rules  of  disci- 
pline, no  body  of  magistrates. 

Still,  it  is  perfectly  obvious,  that  no  society,  however  young, 
however  feebly  held  together,  or  whatever  its  nature,  can  ex- 
ist without  some  moral  power  which  animates  and  guides  it ; 
hind  thus,  in  the  various  Christian  congregations,  there  were 
men  who  preached,  who  taught,  who  morally  governed  the 
congregation.  Still  there  was  no  settled  magistrate,  no  dis- 
cipline ;  a  simple  association  of  believers  in  a  common  faith, 
with  common  sentiments  and  feelings,  was  the  first  condition 
of  Christian  society. 

But  the  moment  this  society  began  to  advance,  and  almost 
at  its  birth,  for  we  find  traces  of  them  in  its  earliest  documents 
there  gradually  became  moulded  a  form  of  doctrine,  rules  of  diV 
cipline,  a  body  of  magistrates  :  of  magistrates  called  vpevBvrepoi, 
or  elders,  who  afterwards  became  priests  ;  of  Mckottoi,  inspect- 
ors or  overseers,  who  became  bishops  ;  and  of  SiaKovot,  or  dea- 
cons, whose  office  was  the  care  of  the  poor  and  the  dist.ribu 
tion  of  a^s. 


CtflLlSATU  ■  \    IN    MODKUN    EUROPE.  51 

Ct  is  almost  impossible  to  Jsteriwiie  the  precise  functions 
iri  these  magistrates  ;  the  lino  of  demarcation  was  probably 
very  vague  and  wavering;  yet  here  was  tiie  embryo  of  insti 
UU008.     Still,  however,  there  was  one  prevailing  charactei 
m  this  second  epoch :  it  was  that  the  power,  the  authority 
lbs  preponderating  influence,  still  remained  in  the  hands  of 
the  general  body  of  believers.     It  was  they  who   decided  in 
tho  election  of  magistrates,  as  well  as  in  the  adoption  of  rules 
of  discipline  and  doctrine.     No  separation  had  as  yet  takenN 
place  between  the   Christian  government  and  the  Christian 
people  ;  neither  as  yet  existed  apart  from,  or  independently 
of,  the  other,  and  it  was  still  the  great  body  of  Christian  bo- 1 
lievers  who  exercised  the  principal  influence  in  the  society.5 1 

In  the  third  period  all  this  was  entirely  changed.  Tho^ 
clergy  were  separated  from  the  people,  and  now.  formed  a 
distinct  body,  with  its  own  wealth,  its  own  jurisdiction,  its  j 
own  constitution;  in  a  word,  it  had  its  own  government,  and 
formed  a  complete  society  of  itself, — a  society,  too,  provided 
with  all  the  means  of  existence,  independently  of  the  society 
to  which  it  applied  itself,  and  over  which  it  extended  its  in- 
fluence.    This  was  the  third  state  of  the  Christian  church, 


s  It  is  fair  to  say  that  this  and  the  preceding  paragraphs  touch 
upon  several  disputed  points..  Contrary  to  the  assertions  here 
made,  it  has  by  many  been  always  strongly  maintained  that  from 
the  outset  not  only  were  there  Christians,  but  there  was  a  Church  ; 
not  only  "  a  simple  association  of  believers,"  but  an  organized 
body ;  and  that  the  constitution,  government,  and  main  rules  of 
discipline  of  the  church  were  distinctly  and  even  divinely  settled  ; 
and  that  the  determination  of  none  of  these  things  was  ever  left  tc 
the  popular  voice  or  will  of  "  the  great  body  of  Christian  believers, r 

At  the  same  time  it  is  admitted  by  those  who  hold  this  view, 
that  from  and  after  the  time  of  Constantine,  the  original  constitu- 
tion of  the  church,  without  being  destroyed,  was  overlaid  by  a  vast 
body  of  human  additions,  particularly  by  the  hierarchy,  or  long 
gradation  of  ecclesiastical  dignities  and  powers  rising  upward  from 
the  primitive  bishop  to  the  patriarch,  and  that  by  these  and  other 
tesults  of  the  alliance  of  Christianity  with  the  empire,  the  simpli- 
city of  the  church  ivas  corrupted,  its  purity  endangered,  and  the 
primitive  relations  of  tiie  clergy  and  people  injuriously  affected. 

In  th's  view,  therefore,  the  general  correctness  of  the  author's  re- 
marks in  regard  to  the  state  of  the  church  in  what  he  terms  th«' 
•  third  period"  will  be  admitted,  even  by  those  who  may  question 
'he  justness  of  his  preceding  statements. 


52  GENERAL     H.STORY     OF 

and  in  this  state  it  existed  at  the  opening  of  the  fifth  century. 
The  government  was  not  yet  completely  separated  from  the 
people  ;  for  no  such  government  as  yet  existed,  and  less  so  in 
religious  matters  than  in  any  other ;  but,  as  respects  the  re- 
lation between  the  clergy  and  Christians  in  general  it  wa? 
the  clergy  who  governed,  and  governed  almost  without  control. 


But,  besides  the  influence  which  the  clergy  derived  from 
their  spiritual  functions,  they  possessed  considerable  power 
over  society,  from  their  having  become  chief  magistrates  in 
the  city  corporations.  We  have  already  seen,  that,  strictly 
speaking,  nothing  had  descended  from  the  Roman  empire,  ex- 
cept its  municipal  system.  Now  it  had  fallen  out  that  by  the 
vexations  of  despotism,  and  the  ruin  of  the  cities,  the  curiales, 
or  officers  of  the  corporations,  had  sunk  into  insignificance 
and  inanity ;  while  the  bishops  and  the  great  body  of  the 
clergy,  full  of  vigor  and  zeal,  were  naturally  prepared  to  guide 
^-and  watch  over  them.  It  is  not  fair  to  accuse  the  clergy  of 
/  usurpation  in  this  matter,  for  it  fell  out  according  to  the  com- 
mon course  of  events  :  the  clergy  alone  possessed  moral 
strength  and  activity,  and  the  clergy  everywhere  succeeded 
to  power — such  is  the  common*  law  of  the  universe. 

The  change  which  had  taken  place  in  this  respect  shows 
itself  in  every  part  of  the  legislation  of  the  Roman  Emperors 
/at  this  period.  In  opening  the  Theodosian  and  Justinian  codes, 
we  find  innumerable  enactments,  which  place  the  management 
of  the  municipal  affairs  in  the  hands  of  the  clergy  and  bishops. 
I  shall  cite  a  few. 


Cod.  Just.,  L.  I.,  tit.  iv.,  De  Episcopih  audientia,  §  26. — With 
regard  to  the  yearly  affairs  of  the  cities,  (whether  as  respects  the 
ordinary  city  revenues,  the  funds  arising  from  the  city  estates,  from 
legacies  or  particular  gifts,  or  from  any  other  source;  whether  as 
respects  the  management  of  the  public  works,  of  the  magazines  of 
provisions,  of  the  aqueducts ;  of  the  maintenance  of  the  public  batli3 
ihe  city  gates,  of  the  building  of  walls  or  towers,  the  repairing  ot 
bridges  and  roads,  or  of  any  lawsuit  in  which  the  city  may  be  engaged 
on  account  of  public  or  private  interests,)  we  ordain  as  follows : — 
The  right  reverend  bishop,  and  three  men  of  good  report,  from 
among  the  chiefs  of  the  city,  shall  assemble  together ;  every  year 
they  shall  examine  the  works  done ;  they  shall  take  care  that  those 
who  conduct,  or  have  conducted  them,  measure  them  correctly, 
Ave  a  true  account  of  them,  and  cause  it  to  be  seen  that  they  have 
tiufilled  their  contract?   wnether  in  the  care  of  the  public  mono- 


fl\  it.l/.A  1  IO>     I.N     MOD!  (IPB.  53 

.  in  the  DQ  nded  in  provisions  ami  the  p  ibl.c  DttlML 

of  all  that  Lb  expended  fix  the  repairs  of  the  roads,  aqueducts,  and 
oil  other  matters. 

Ibid.,  $  30. — With  respect  to  the  guardianship  of  youth,  of  the 
lirst  and  second  aire,  and  of  all  those  to  whom  the  law  givrs  euro- 
iors>  if  their  fortune  is  not  more  than  5000  aurei,  we  ordain  thai 
the  nomination  of  the  president  of  the  province  should  not  be  wait- 
ed  for,  on  account  of  the  great  expense  it  would  occasion,  especially 
if  the  president  should  not  reside  in  the  city  in  which  it  becomey 
necessary  to  provide  for  the  guardianship.  The  Domination  of  the 
curators  or  tutors  shall,  in  this  case,  be  made  by  the  magistrate  of 
the  city  .  ...  in  concert  with  the  right  reverend  bishop  and  othci 
OS  invested  with  public  authority,  if  more  than  one  should  re- 
side in  the  city. 

Ibid.,  L.  I.,  tit.  v.,  Dc  Defcnsoribus,  §  S. — We  desire  the  defend- 
ers of  cities,  well  instructed  in  the  holy  mysteries  of  the  orthodox 
faith,  should  be  chosen  and  instituted  into  their  office  by  the  rever- 
end bishops,  the  clerks,  notables,  proprietors,  and  the  curiales. 
With  regard  to  their  installation,  it  must  be  committed  to  the  glo- 
rious pow?r  of  the  prefects  of  the  praetorium,  in  order  that  their 
authority  should  have  all  the  stability  and  weight  which  the  letters 
of  admission  granted  by  his  Magnificence  are  likely  to  give. 

I  could  cite  numerous  other  laws  to  the  same  effect,  and  in\  , 
all  of  them  you  would  see  this  one  fact  very  strikingly  pre- 
vail :  namely,  that  between  the  Roman  municipal  system,  and 
that  of  the  free  cities  of  the  middle  ages,  there  intervened  an 
ecclesiastical  municipal  system ;  the  preponderance  of  the 
clergy  in  the  management  of  the  affairs  of  the  city  corpora- 
tions succeeded  to  that  of  the  ancient  Roman  municipal  ma- 
gistrates, and  paved  the  way  for  the  organization  of  our  mo- 
dern free  communities. 


of  power  \ 
nly  in  its  j 
e  body  of 


It  will  at  once  be  seen  what  an  amazing  accession 
the  Christian  church  gained  by  these  means,  not  only 
own  peculiar  circle,  by  its  increased  influence  on  the  body 
Christians,  but  also  by  the  part  which  it  took  in  temporal  mat- 
ters. And  it  is  from  this  period  we  should  date  its  powerful 
co-operation  in  the  advance  of  modern  civilization,  and  the 
extensive  influence  it  has  had  upon  its  character.  Let  Ud 
briefly  run  over  the  advantages  which  it  introduced  into  it. 

And,  first,  it  was  of  immense  advantage  to  European  civil- 
tzation  that  a  moral  influence,  a  moral  power — a  power  reel- 
ing entirely  upon  moral  convictions,  upon  moral  opinions  and 
sentiments — should  have  established  itself  in  society,  just  at 
ln"s  period,  when  it  seemed  upon  the  point  of  being  crushed 


54 


liEXEKAL    HIST  ><tY    OF 


by  the  overwhelming  physical  force  which  had  taken  pos- 
session of  it.     Had  not  the  Christian  church  at  this  time  ex 

/isted,  the  whole  world  must  have  fallen  a  prey  to  mere  brute" 

\  force.  The  Christian  church  alone  possessed  a  moral  power , 
it  maintained  and  promulgated  the  idea  of  a  precept,  of  a  law 
superior  to  all  human  authority ;  it  proclaimed  that  great  truth 
which  forms  the  only  foundation  of  our  hope  for  humanity ; 
namely,  Jhat  there  exists  a  law  above  all  human  law,  which, 
by  whatever  name  it  may  be  called,  whether  reason,  the  law 
of  God,  or  what  not,  is,  in  all  times  and  in  all  places,  the  same 
law  under  different  names. 

/  Finally,  the  church  commenced  an  undertaking  of  greaf 
importance  to  society — I  mean  the  separation  of  temporal  and 
spiritual  authority.  This  separation  is  the  only  true  source 
of  liberty  of  conscience  ;  it  was  based  upon  no  other  princi- 
ple than  that  which  serves  as  the  groundwork  forthestiictest 
and  most  extensive  liberty  of  conscience.  The  separation  of 
temporal  and  spiritual  power  rests  solely  upon  the  idea  that 
physical,  that  brute  force,  has  no  right  or  authority  over  the 
mind,  over  convictions,  over  truth.  It  flows  from  the  dis- 
tinction established  between  the  world  of  thought  and  the 
world  of  action,  between  our  inward  and  intellectual  nature 
and  the  outward  world  around  us.     So  that,  however  paro- 

/  doxical  it  may  seem,  that  very  principle  of  liberty  of  conscience 
for  which  Europe  has  so  long  struggled,  so  much  suffered* 
which  has  only  so  late  .y  prevailed,  and  that,  in  many  instances, 
against  the  will  of  the  clergy, — that  very  principle  was  acted 
upon  under  the  name  of  a  separation  of  the  temporal  and  spiritual 
\^  power,  in  the  infancy  of  European  civilization.  It  was,  more- 
over, the  Christian  church  itself,  driven  to  assert  it  by  the  cir- 
cumstances in  which  it  was  placed,  as  a  means  of  defence 
against  barbarism,  that  introduced  and  maintained  it 

The  establishment,  then,  of  a  moral  influence,  the  maintu 
nance  of  this  divine  law,  and  the  separation  of  temporal  and 
rpi  ritual  power,  may  be  enumerated  as  the  great  benefits 
which  the  Christian  church  extended  to  European  society  in 
the  fifth  century. 


Unfortunately,  all  its  influences,  even  at  this  period,  were 
not  equally  beneficial.  Already,  even  before  the  close  of  the 
fifth  century,  we  discover  some  of  those  vicious  principles 
which  have  had  so  baneful  an  effect  on  the  advancement  of 


CIVILIZATION    IN    BObl  >»•£. 

our  ehilization.    Then  already  prevailed  in  the  bosom  of  th« 

church  a  desire  to  separate  the  governing  and  the  governed 

The  attempt  was  thus  early  made  to  render  the  ^overmnen. 
entirely  independent  of  the  people  under  its  authorn y — ;o  take 
possession  of  their  mind  and  life,  Without  the  conviction  of 
their  reason  or  the  consent  of  their  will.  The  church,  more 
over,  endeavored  with  all  her  might  to  establish  the  principle 
of  theocracy,  to  usurp  temporal  authority,  to  obtain  universal 
dominion.  And  when  she  failed  in  this,  when  she  found  she 
could  not  obtain  absolute  power  for  herself,  she  did  what  \\ 
almost  as  bad :  to  obtain  a  share  of  it,  she  leagued  herself 
with  temporal  rulers,  and  enforced,  with  all  her  might,  their 
claim  to  absolute  power  at  the  expense  of  the  liberty  of  the 
subject. 


Such  then,  I  think,  were  the  principal  elements  of  civiliza- 
tion which  Europe  derived,  in  the  fifth  century,  from  the 
Church  and  from  the  Roman  empire.  Such  was  the  state  of 
the  Roman  world  when  the  barbarians  came  to  make  it  their 
prey  ;  and  we  have  now  only  to  study  the  barbarians  them- 
selves, in  order  to  be  acquainted  with  the  elements  which 
were  united  and  mixed  together  in  the  cradle  of  our  civiliza- 
tion. 

It  must  be  here  understood  that  we  have  nothing  to  do  with 
the  history  of  the  barbarians.  It  is  enough  for  our  purposed 
to  know,  that  wi  h  the  exception  of  a  few  Slavonian  tribes, 
such  as  the  Alans,  they  were  all  of  the  same  German  origin  : 
and  that  they  were  all  in  pretty  nearly  the  same  state  of  civili- 
zation. It  is  true  that  some  little  difference  might  exist  in 
this  respect,  accordingly  as  these  nations  had  more  or  less 
intercourse  with  the  Roman  world ;  and  there  is  no  doubt  but 
the  Goths  had  made  a  greater  progress,  and  had  become  more 
refined  than  the  Franks  ;  but  in  a  general  point  of  view,  and 
with  regard  to  the  matter  before  us,  these  little  differences  are 
uf  no  consequence  whatever. 

A  general  notion  of  the  state  of  society  among  the  barba- 
rians, such,  at  least,  as  will  enable  us  to  judge  of  what  they 
have  contributed  towards  modern  civilization,  is  all  that  we 
require.  This  information,  small  as  it  may  appear,  it  is  now 
■llmost  impossible  to  obtain.  Respecting  the  municipal  sys- 
tem of  the  Romans  and  the  state  of  the  Church  we  may  form 


c 


50  GEiNERAL    HISTOU1     OF 

a  tolerably  accurate  idea.  Their  influence  has  lasted  to  the 
present  times  ;  we  have  vestiges  of  them  in  many  of  our  in  < 
Btitutions,  and  possess  a  thousand  means  of  becoming  ac- 
quainted with  them  ;  but  the  manners  and  social  state  of  the 
barbarians  have  completely  perished,  and  we  are  driven  to 
conjecture  what  tney  were,  either  from  a  very  few  ancient 
historical  remains,  or  by  an  effort  of  the  imagination. 

f  There  is  one  sentiment,  one  in  particular,  which  it  in 
necessary  to  understand  before  we  can  form  a  true  picture  of 
R  barbarian  ;  it  is  the  pleasure  of  personal  independence — the 

)  pleasure  of  enjoying,  in  full  force  and  liberty,  all  his  powers 
in  the  various  ups  and  downs  of  fortune ;  the  fondness  for 
activity  without  labor ;  for  a  life  of  enterprise  and  adventure. 
Such  was  the  prevailing  character  and  disposition*  of  the  bar- 
barians ;  such  were  the  moral  wants  which  put  these  immense 
masses  of  men  into  motion.  It  is  extremely  difficult  for  us, 
in  the  regulated  society  in  which  we  move,  to  form  anything 
like  a  correct  idea  of  this  feeling,  and  of  the  influence  which 
it  exercised  upon  the  rude  barbarians  of  the  fourth  and  fifth 
centuries.  There  is,  however,  a  history  of  the  Norman  con- 
quest of  England,  written  by  M.  Thierry,  in  which  the  char- 
acter and  disposition  of  the  barbarian  are  depicted  with  much 
life  and  vigor.  In  this  admirable  work,  the  motives,  the  incli- 
nations and  impulses  that  stir  men  into  action  in  a  state  of  life 
bordering  on  the  savage,  have  been  felt  and  described  in  a 
truly  masterly  manner.  There  is  nowhere  else  to  be  found 
so  correct  a  likeness  of  what  a  barbarian  was,  or  of  his  course 
of  life.  Something  of  the  same  kind,  but,  in  my  opinion, 
much  inferior,  is  found  in  the  novels  of  Mr.  Cooper,  in  which 
he  depicts  the  manners  of  the  savages  of  America.  In  these 
scenes,  in  the  sentiments  and  social  relations  which  these 
savages  hold  in  the  midst  of  their  forests,  there  is  unquestion- 
ably something  which,  to  a  certain  point,  calls  up  before  us 
the  manners  of  the  ancient  Germans.  No  doubt  these  pic- 
tures are  a  little  imaginative,  a  little  poetical ;  the  worst  fea 
hires  in  the  life  and  manners  of  the  barbarians  are  not  given 
in  all  their  naked  coarseness.  I  allude  not  merely  to  the  evils 
which  these  manners  forced  into  the  social  condition,  but  to 
the  inward  individual  condition  of  the  barbarian  himself 
There  is  in  this  passionate  desire  for  personal  independence 
something  of  a  grosser,  more  material  character  than  wc 
should  suppose  from  the  work  of  M.  Thierry ;  a  degree  of 


ULIIaTION    in    400IRN    EUROPE  g) 

brutality,  of  headstrong  passion,  of  apathy,  which  we  do  noi 

discover  in  his  details.     Still,  notwithstanding  this  alloy  <>i 

hrutal  and  stupid  selfishness,  there  is,  if  we  look  more  pro- 
foundly into  the  matter,  something  of  a  noble  and  moral  char- 
acter, in  this  taste  for  independence,  which  seems  to  derive 
its  power  from  our  moral  nature.  It  is  the  pleasure  of  feeling 
one's  self  a  man ;  the  sentiment  of  personality  ;  of  human 
spontaneity  in  its  unrestricted  development.  . 

It  was  the  rude  barbarians  of  Germany  who  introduced  this 
sentiment  of  personal  independence,  this  love  of  individual 
liberty,  into  European  civilization  ;  it  was  unknown  among 
the  Romans,  it  was  unknown  in  the  Christian  Church,  it  was 
unknown  in  nearly  all  the  civilizations  of  antiquity.  The 
liberty  which  we  meet  with  in  ancient  civilizations  is  politi- 
cal liberty ;  it  is  the  liberty  of  the  citizen.  It  was  not  about 
his  personal  liberty  that  man  troubled  himself,  it  was  about 
his  liberty  as  a  citizen.  He  formed  part  of  an  association, 
and  to  this  alone  he  was  devoted.  The  case  was  the  same 
in  the  Christian  Church.  Among  its  members  a  devoted  at\ 
tachment  to  the  Christian  body,  a  devotedness  to  its  laws,  and* 
an  earnest  zeal  for  the  extension  of  its  empire,  were  every- 
where conspicuous ;  the  spirit  of  Christianity  wrought  a 
change  in  the  moral  character  of  man,  opposed  to  this  prin- 
ciple of  independence  ;  for  under  its  influence  his  mind  strug- 
gled to  extinguish  its  own  liberty,  and  to  deliver  itself  up  en-  J 
lirely  to  the  dictates  of  his  faith.  But  the  feeling  of  person^ 
al  independence,  a  fondness  for  genuine  liberty  displaying  it 
self  without  regard  to  consequences,  and  with  scarcely  any 
other  aim  inan  its  own  satisfaction — this  feeling,  I  repeat,  was 
unknown  to  the  Romans  and  to  the  Christians.  We  are  in- 
debted for  it  to  the  barbarians,  who  introduced  it  into  Euro- 
pean civilization,  in  which,  from  its  first  rise,  it  has  played  so 
considerable  a  part,  and  has  produced  such  lasting  and  bene- 
ficial results,  that  it  must  be  regarded  as  one  of  its  fundamen- 
tal principles,  and  *  ould  not  be  passed  without  notice. 

There  is  another,  a  second  element  of  civilization,  which  I 
we  likewise  inherit  from  the  barbarians  alone  :  I  mean  mili- 
tary oatronage,  the  tie  which  became  formed  between  indivi- 
duals, between  warriors,  and  which,  without  destroying  the 
liberty  of  any,  without  even  destroying  in  the  commencement 
the  equality  up  to  a  certain  point  which  existed  between  them, 
laid  the  foundation  of  a  graduated  subordination,  and  was  the 


58  GENERAL    HISTORY    OP 

origin  of  that  aristocratical  organization  which,  at  a  later  pt> 
riod,  grew  into  the  feudal  system.  The  germ  of  this  connexion 
was  the  attachment  of  man  to  man  ;  the  fidelity  which  united 
individuals,  without  apparent  necessity,  without  any  obliga- 
tion arising  from  the  general  principles  of  society.  In  none 
of  the  ancient  republics  do  you  see  any  example  of  individuals 
particularly  and  freely  attached  to  other  individuals.  They 
were  all  attached  to  the  city.  Among  the  barbarians  this  tie 
was  formed  between  man  and  man ;  first  by  the  relationship 
of  companion  and  chief,  when  they  came  in  bands  to  overrun 
Europe  ;  and  at  a  later  period,  by  the  relationship  of  sovereign 
and  vassal.  This  second  principle,  which  has  had  so  vast  an 
influence  in  the  civilization  of  modern  Europe — this  devoted- 
ness  of  man  to  man — came  to  us  entirely  from  our  German 
ancestors  ;  it  formed  part  of  their  social  system,  and  was 
adopted  into  ours. 


Let  me  now  ask  if  I  was  not  fully  justified  in  stating,  as  i 
did  at  the  outset,  that  modern  civilization,  even  in  its  infancy, 
was  diversified,  agitated,  and  confused  1  Is  it  not  true  that 
we  find  at  the  fall  of  the  Roman  empire  nearly  all  the  ele- 
ments which  are  met  with  in  the  progressive  career  of  our 
civilization  1  We  have  found  at  this  epoch  three  societies  all 
different ;  first,  municipal  society,  the  last  remains  of  the  Ro- 
man empire  ;  secondly,  Christian  society ;  and  lastly,  barba- 
rian society.  We  find  these  societies  very  differently  organ- 
ized ;  founded  upon  principles  totally  opposite  ;  inspiring  men 
with  sentiments  altogether  different.  We  find  the  love  of  the 
most  absolute  independence  by  the  side  of  the  most  devoted 
submission;  military  patronage  by  the  side  of  ecclesiastical 
domination  ;  spiritual  power  and  temporal  power  everywhere 
together ;  the  canons  of  the  church,  the  learned  legislation  of 
the  Romans,  the  almost  unwritten  customs  of  the  barbarians  ; 
everywhere  a  mixture  or  rather  co-existence  of  nations,  of 
languages,  of  social  situations,  of  manners,  of  ideas,  of  impres- 
sions, the  most  diversified.  These,  I  think,  afford  a  sufficient 
proof  of  the  truth  of  the  general  character  which  I  have  en- 
deavored to  picture  of  our  civilization. 

,  '""  There  is  no  denying  that  we  owe  to  this  confusion,  this 
diversity,  this  tossing  an  1  jostling  of  elements,  the  slow  pro- 
gress of  Europe,  the  storms  by  which  she  has  been  buffeted, 
the  miseries  to  which  ofttimes  she  has  been  a  prey.     But, 


CIVILISATION    IX    MODERN    EUROPE. 

;iuuovci  dear  these  have  cost  us,  we  must  not  regard  them 
with  cmmingled  regret.  In  nations,  as  well  as  in  individuals 
the  good  fortune  to  have  all  the  faculties  called  into  action,  so 
as  to  ensure  a  full  and  free  development  of  the  various  powers 
both  of  mind  and  body,  is  in  advantage  not  too  dearly  paid 
for  by  the  labor  and  pain  with  which  it  is  attended.  What 
we  might  call  the  hard  fortune  of  European  civilization — the 
double,  the  toil  it  has  undergone — the  violence  it  has  suffered 
ia  its  course — have  been  of  infinitely  more  service  to  the  pro 
«„Tess  of  humanity  than  that  tranquil,  smooth  simplicity,  in 
which  other  civilizations  have  run  their  course.  I  shall  now 
halt.  In  the  rude  sketch  which  I  have  drawn,  I  trust  you  wiP 
recognise  the  general  features  of  the  world  such  as  it  appear 
jd  upon  the  fall  of  the  Roman  empire,  as  well  as  the  various 
elements  which  conspired  and  mingled  together  to  give  birth 
to  European  civilization.  Henceforward  these  will  move  and 
ict  under  our  notice.  We  shall  next  put  these  in  motion,  and 
see  how  they  work  together.  In  the  next  lecture  I  shall  en- 
deavor to  show  what  they  became  and  what  they  performed  in 
the  epoch  which  is  called  the  Barbarous  Period ;  that  is  to 
say,  the  period  during  which  the  chaos  of  invasion  continued.6 


6  The  remarkable  crisis,  when  the  Romans  and  the  barbarians 
were  contending  for  the  empire  of  the  world,  should  be  well  com- 
prehended by  the  student.  Gibbon  will  furnish  the  history  :  Caesar 
and  Tacitus  are  the  original  sources  for  a  knowledge  of  the  German 
character.  It  was  a  struggle  between  civilization  and  barbarism : 
the  latter  triumphed  ;  the  Dark  Ages  were  the  result. 

Frequent  border  wars  had  been  maintained  with  the  Germans 
on  the  Rhine  from  the  time  of  Julius  Caesar,  when  the  conquest 
of  Gaul  had  extended  the  bounds  of  the  empire  to  that  river. 

But  after  the  time  of  Caracalla,  212,  the  conflict  became  inces- 
sant :  new  tribes  of  Germans  began  to  appear  and  press  upon  the 
frontier,  making  continual  predatory  irruptions  into  the  Roman  ter- 
ritory, but  effecting  no  permanent  establishment. 

At  length,  in  376,  the  Huns,  entering  Europe  from  northern  Asia, 
subdued  or  drove  before  them  the  Sclavonian  and  Gothic  tribes, 
precipitated  the  Visigoths  across  the  Danube  within  the  limits  ot 
f.he  Roman  Empire. 

Then  began  the  struggle  for  the  empire.  Wave  followed  wave 
ji  the  great  migration  of  nations — a  movement  which  continued  to 
roll  tumultuously  over  Europe  for  more  than  three  centuries  after 
the  downfall  of  the  Western  Empire. 

The  various  tribes  of  barbarians  whose  names  appear  in  th*  hi* 
'ory  ol  this  period  belonged  to  three  distinct  races: 


60  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF     CIVILIZATION. 

1.  The  Scythian — comprising  the  Huns,  the  Alani,  Avari,  Bul- 
garians, Hungarians,  Turks,  and  Tartars. 

2.  The  Sclavonian — to  which  belonged  the  Bosnians,  the  Ser 
vians,  Croatians,  etc.;  the  Wendi,  Poles,  Bohemians,  Moravians 
Pomeranians,  Wiltsians,  Lusatians,  etc;  the  Livonians  and  Lithu 
anians. 

3.  The  German — including  the  Alemanni,  a  confederation  oi 
tribes  of  which  the  Suevi  were  the  chief;  the  Bavarians,  Mar- 
oomanni,  Quadi,  Hermunduri,  Heruli ;  the  Gepidcc,  the  Goths 
the  Francs,  the  Frisons ;  the  Vandals,  Burgundians,  Eugii,  Lom- 
bards ;  the  Angli,  and  Saxons. 

The  final  extinction  of  the  Roman  Empire  of  the  West  is  dated 
in  476,  when  the  imperial  throne  was  subverted  Ly  Odoacer,  lead- 
er  of  ihe  mixed  multitude  of  barbarian  auxiliaries.  But  it  should  be 
remembered  that  previous  to  this  event  Rome  had  been  twice  taken 
and  sacked,  first  by  Alaric  and  the  Visigoths  in  410,  next  by  Genseric 
and  the  Vandals  in  455;  and  that  four  barbarian  kingdoms  had 
been  established  within  the  limits  of  the  empire  :  the  kingdom  of 
the  Burgundians  in  413  ;  of  the  Suevi  in  419  ;  of  the  Visigoths  in 
419;  of  Carthage  by  the  Vandals  in  439. 

In  493  the  power  of  Odoacer  was  destroyed,  and  the  Ostro- 
Gothic  kingdom  of  Italy  established  by  Theodoric  the  Great. 

Thus,  before  the  end  of  the  fifth  century,  the  Vandals  were  mas- 
ters of  Africa  ;  the  Suevi,  of  a  part  of  Spain ;  the  Visigoths  of  the 
rest,  together  with  a  large  part  of  Gaul ;  the  Burgundians  of  that 
part  of  Gaul  lying  on  the  Rhone  and  Saone ;  the  Ostro-Goths  of 
nearly  all  Italy ;  while  the  Francs  under  Clovis  had  begun  (481 
— 496)  the  career  of  conquest,  which  in  the  next  and  following  cen- 
turies resulted  in  the  overthrow  of  those  kingdoms,  the  establish- 
ment of  the  Frankish  dominion,  and  the  formation  for  a  time  of  a 
new  centre  of  gravity  .or  Europe  under  Charlemagne. 


LECTURE  III. 

OV     TOLTTICAL    LEGITIMACY CO-EXISTENCE    OF   ALL    THE   fll& 

TEMS  OF  GOVERNMENT  IN  THE  FIFTH  CENTURY — ATTEMPT* 
TO    REORGANIZE    SOCIETY. 

In  my  last  lecture,  I  brought  you  to  what  may  be  called  the 
porch  to  the  history  of  modern  civilization.     1  briefly  placed 
before  you  the  primary  elements  of  European  civilization,  a« 
found  when,  at  the  dissolution  of  the  Roman  empire,  it  was  yet 
in  its  cradle.     I  endeavored  to  givo  you  a  preliminary  sketch^ 
of  their  diversity,  their  continual  struggles  with  each  other,  } 
and  to  show  you  that  no  one  of  them  succeeded  in  obtaining  j 
the  mastery  in  our  social  system  ;  at  least  such  a  mastery  as  ;' 
would  imply  the  complete  subjugation  or    expulsion  of  the. 
others.     We  have  seen  that  these  circumstances  form  the  di«£) 
tinguishing  character  of  European  civilization.     We  will  to- 
day begin  the  history  of  its  childhood  in  what  is  commonly 
called  the  dark  or  middle  age,  the  age  of  barbarism. 

It  is  impossible  for  us  not  to  be  struck,  at  the  first  glance  at 
this  period,  with  a  fact  which  seems  quite  contradictory  to  the 
statement  we  have  just  made.  No  sooner  do  we  seek  for  in- 
formation respecting  the  opinions  that  have  been  formed  rela- 
tive to  the  ancient  condition  of  modern  Europe,  than  we  find 
that  the  various  elements  of  our  civilization,  that  is  to  say, 
monarchy,  theocracy,  aristocracy,  and  democracy,  each  would 
have  us  believe  that  originally,  European  society  belonged  to 
it  alone,  and  that  it  l?as  only  lost  the  power  it  then  possessed 
by  the  usurpation  of  the  other  elements.  Examine  all  that  has 
been  written,  all  that  has  been  said  on  this  subject,  and  you 
will  find  that  every  author  who  has  attempted  to  build  up  a 
system  which  should  represent  or  explain  our  origin,  has 
asserted  the  exclusive  predominance  of  one  or  other  of  these 
elements  of  European  civilization. 

First,  there  is  the  school  of  civilians,  attached  to  the  feu-  ~f 
lal  system,  among  whom  we  may  mention  Boulainvilliers  as 


GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 


the  most  celebrated,  who  boldly  asserts,  that,  at  ihe  downfall 
of  the  Roman  empire,  it  was  the  conquering  nation,  forming 
afterwards  the  nobility,  who  alone  possessed  authority,  or 
right,  or  power.  Society,  it  is  said,  was  their  domain,  of 
Atvhich  kings  and  people  have  since    despoiled   them  ;    and 

/  I  hence,  the  aristocjraUc  organization  is  affirmed  to  have  been 
Vin  Europe  the  primitive  and  genuine  form. 

Next  to  this  school  we  may  place  die  advocates  of  monar- 
idiy,  the  Abbe  Dubois,  for  example,  who  maintains,  orTtTie 
irther  side,  that  it  was  to  royalty  that  European  society  bo- 
longed      According  to  him,,  the  German  kings  succeeded  to 

cs  all  the  rights  of  the  Roman  emperors  ;  they  were  even  invited 
in  by  the  ancient  nations,  among  others  by  the  Gauls  and  Sax- 
ons ;  they  alone  possessed  legitimate  authority,  and  all  the 
conquests  of  the  aristocracy  were  only  so  many  encroach- 
ments upon  the  power  of  the  monarchs. 

The  liberals,  republicans,  or  democrats,  whichever  you  may 

2)  choose  to  call  thenvTorm  a  third  school.  Consult  the  Abbe 
de  Mably.  According  to  this  school,  the  government  by  which 
society  was  ruled  in  the  fifth  century,  was  composed  of  free 
institutions ;  of  assemblies  of  freemen,  of  the  nation  proper- 
ly so  called.  Kings  and  nobles  enriched  themselves  by  the 
spoils  of  this  primitive  Liberty ;  it  has  fallen  under  their  re- 
peated attacks,  but  it  reigned  before  them. 

Another  power,  however,  claimed  the  right  of  governing 
society,  and  upon  much  higher  grounds  than  any  of  these. 
Monarchical,  aristocratic,  and  popular  pretensions  were  all 
of  a  worldly  nature :  the  Church  of  Rome  founded  her  pre- 

W  tensions  upon  her  sacred  mission  and  divine  right.  By  her 
labors,  Europe,  she  said,  had  attained  the  blessings  of  civi- 
lizatior  and  truth,  and  to  her  alone  belonged  the  right  to 
govern  it. 

i  Here  then  is  a  difficulty  which  meets  us  at  the  very  outset. 
/We  have  stated  our  belief  that  no  one  of  the  elements  of 
European  civilization  obtained  an  exclusive  mastery  over  it, 
in  the  whole  course  of  its  history ,  that  they  lived  in  a  con- 
stant state  of  proximity,  of  amalgamation,  of  strife,  and  of 
compromise  ;  yet  here,  at  our  very  first  step,  we  are  met  by  the 
directly  opposite  opinion,  that  one  or  other  of  these  elements, 
even  in  the  very  infancy  of  civilization,  even  in  the  very  heart 
of  barbarian  Europe,  took  entire  possession  of  society.  And 
't  is  not  in  one  country  alone,  it  is  in  every  nation  of  Europe 


<  I  .  1U7.AI  ION     IN     MPDF.RN     I  63 

fat  ihe  various  principles  of  our  civilization,  under  forms  a 
jttle  varied,  at  epochs  a  little  apart,  have  displayed  these 
irreconcilable  pretensions.  The  historic  schools  which  I  have 
enumerated  are  met  with  everywhere. 

This  fact  is  important,  not  in  itself,  but  because  it  reveal? 
some  other  facts  which  make  a  great  figure  in  our  history 
By  this  simultaneous  advancement  of  claims  the  most  opposed 
%o  the  exclusive  possession  of  power,  in  the  first  stage  of 
modern  Europe,  two  important  facts  are  revealed :  first,  tho 
principle,  tho  idea'of  political  legitimacy  ;  an  idea  which  has 
played  a  considerable  part  in  the  progress  of  European  civili- 
zation. The  second  is  the  particular,  the  true  character  **f 
the  state  of  barbarian  Europe  during  that  period,  which  now  / 
more  expressly  demands  attention. 

ft  is  my  task,  then,  to  explain  these  two  facts  ;  and  to 
s»\ow  you  how  they  may  be  fairly  deduced  from  the  early 
struggle  of  the  pretensions  which  I  have  just  called  to  your 
notice. 

Now  what  do  these  various  elements  of  our  civilization,— A 
what  do  theocracy,  monarchy,  aristocracy,  and  democracy \ 
aim  at,  when  they  each  endeavor  to  make  out  that  it  alone  I 
was  the  first  which  held  possession  of  European  society  ?  Is 
it  any  thing  beyond  the  desire  of  each  to  establish  its  sole 
claim  to  legitimacy  ?    For  what  is  political  legitimacy  ?    Ev£\ 
dently  nothing  more  than  a  right  founded  upon  antiquity,  upoi' 
duration,  which  is  obvious  from  the  simple  fact,  that  piiorityj 
of  time  is  pleaded  as  the  source  of  right,  as  proof  of  legiti- 
mate power.     But,  observe  again,  this  claim  is  not  peculiar 
to  one  system,  to  one  element  of  our  civilization,  but  is  made 
alike  by  all.    The  political  writers  of  the  Continent  have  been 
in  the  habit,  for  some  time  past,  of  regarding  legitimacy  as 
belonging,  exclusively,  to  the  monarchical  system.     This  is 
an  error  ;  legitimacy  may  be  found  in  all  the  systems.     It  has 
already  been  shown  that,  of  the  various  elements  of  our  civi- 
lization, each  wished  to  appropriate  it  to  itself.     But  advance 
a  few  steps  further  into  the  history  of  Europe,  and  you  will 
bee  social  forms  of  government,  the  most  opposed  in  prin- 
ciples, alike  in  possession  of  this  legitimacy.     The  Italian 
and  Swiss  aristocracies  and  democracies,  the  little  republic 
uf  San  Marino,  as  well  as  the  most  powerful  monarchies,  have 
lonsidcred  themselves  legitimate,  and  have  been  acknowledged 


64  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

/  as  such  ,  all  founding  their  claim  to  this  title  upon  the  an 
1  tiquity  of  their  institutions ;  upon  the  historical  priority  and 
\  duration  of  their  particular  system  of  government. 

If  we  leave  modern  Europe,  and  turn  our  attention  to  other 
times  and  to  other  countries,  we  shall  everywhere  find  this 
same  notion  prevail  respecting  political  legitimacy.  It  every- 
where attaches  itself  to  some  portion  of  government ;  to  some 
institution ;  to  some  form,  or  to  some  maxim.  There  is  no 
country,  no  time,  in  which  you  may  not  discover  some  por- 
tion of  the  social  system,  some  public  authority,  that  has  as- 
sumed, and  been  acknowledged  to  possess,  this  character  ol 
legitimacy,  arising  from  antiquity,  prescription,  and  duration 

Let  us  for  a  moment  see  what  this  legitiniacyis  ?  of  what 
it  is  composed  ?  what  it  requires  ?  and  how  it  found  its  way 
into  European  civilization  ? 

You  will  find  that  all  power — I  say  all,  without  distinction 
— owes  its  existence  in  the  first  place  partly  to  force.  I  do 
not  say  that  force  alone  has  been,  in  all  cases,  the  foundation 
of  power,  or  that  this,  without  any  other  title,  could  in  every 
case  have  been  established  by  force  alone.  Other  claims  un- 
doubtedly are  requisite.  Certain  powers  become  established 
in  consequence  of  certain  social  expediencies,  of  certain  re- 
lations with  the  state  of  society,  with  its  customs  or  opinions. 
But  it  is  impossible  to  close  our  eyes  to  the  fact,  that  violence 
has  sullied  the  birth  of  all  the  authorities  in  the  world,  what- 
ever may  have  been  their  nature  or  their  form. 

This  origin,  however,  no  one  will  acknowledge.  All  au- 
thorities, whatever  their  nature,  disclaim  it.  None  of  them 
will  allow  themselves  to  be  considered  as  the  offspring  of 

Cfcrce.  Governments  are  warned  by  an  invincible  instinct  that 
force  is  no  title — that  might  is  not  right — and  that,  while  they 
rest  upon  no  other  foundation  than  violence,  they  are  entirely 
destitute  of  right.  Hence,  if  we  go  back  to  some  distant  pe- 
riod, in  which  the  various  systems,  the  various  powers,  are 
found  struggling  one  against  the  other,  we  shall  hear  them 
each  exclaiming,  "  I  existed  before  you ;  my  claim  is  the  old- 
est ;  my  claim  rests  upon  other  grounds  than  force ;  society 
belonged  to  me  before  this  state  of  violence,  before  this  strife 
in  which  you  now  find  me.  I  was  legitimate  ;  I  have  been 
apposed,  and  my  rights  have  been  torn  from  me." 

This  fact  alone  proves  that  the  idea  of  violence  is  not  the 
foundation  cf  political  legitimacy, — that  it  rests  upon  somf 


( UTILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE, 

jthcr  basis.  This  disavowal  of  violence  made  by  e\ery  sys- 
tem, proclaims,  as  plainly  as  facts  can  speak,  that  there  hk 
another  legitimacy,  the  true  foundation  of  all  the  others,  the 

legitimacy  of  reason,  of  justice,  of  right.  It  is  to  this  origin 
that  they  seek  to  link  themselves.    As  they  feel  scandalized 

ut  the  very  idea  of  being  the  offspring  of  force,  they  pretend 
;o  be  invested,  by  virtue  of  their  antiquity,  with  a  different 
title.  The  first  characteristic,  then,  of  political  legitimacy,  iL< 
to  disclaim  violence  as  the  source  of  authority,  and  to  asso- 
ciate  it  with  a  moral  notion,  a  moral  force — with  the  notion 
of  justice,  of  right,  of  reason.  This  is  the  primary  element 
from  which  the  principle  of  political  legitimacy  has  sprung 
forth.  It  has  issued  from  it,  aided  by  time,  aided  by  prescrip-  / 
lion.     Let  us  see  how. 

Violence  presides  at  the  birth  of  governments,  at  the  birth 
of  societies ;  but  time  rolls  on.  He  changes  the  works  of 
violence.  He  corrects  them.  He  corrects  them,  simply  be- 
cause society  endures,  and  because  it  is  composed  of  men. 
Man  bears  within  himself  certain  notions  of  order,  of  justice, 
of  reason,  with  a  certain  desire  to  bring  them  into  play — he 
wishes  to  see  them  predominate  in  the  sphere  in  which  he 
moves.  For  this  he  labors  unceasingly ;  and  if  the  social 
system  in  which  he  lives,  continues,  his  labor  is  not  in  vain. 
Man  naturally  brings  reason,  morality,  and  legitimacy  into  the]) 
world  in  which  he  lives. 

Independently  of  the  labor  of  man,  by  a  special  law  of 
Providence  which  it  is  impossible  to  mistake,  a  law  analogous 
to  that  which  rules  the  material  world,  there  is  a  certain  de- 
gree of  order,  of  intelligence,  of  justice,  indispensable  to  the 
duration  of  human  society.  From  the  simple  fact  of  its  du- 
ration we  may  argue,  that  a  society  is  not  completely  irration- 
al, savage,  or  iniquitous ;  that  it  is  not  altogether  destitute  of 
intelligence,  truth,  and  justice,  for  without  these,  society  can- 
not hold  together.  Again,  as  society  develops  itself,  it  be- 
comes stronger,  more  powerful;  if  the  social  system  is  con- 
tinually augmented  by  the  increase  of  individuals  who  accept 
and  approve  its  regulations,  it  is  because  the  action  of  time 
gradually  introduces  into  it  more  right,  more  intelligence,  more 
justice ;  it  it  is  because  a  gradual  approximation  is  made  in 
its  affairs  to  the  principles  of  true  legitimacy. 

Thus  forces  itself  into  the  world,  and  from  the  world  into 
the  mind  of  man,  the  notion  ol  political  legitimacy.     Its  foun- 


66  GENLItAL    H1ST0RV    OF 

elation  in  the  first  place,  at  least  to  a  certain  extei.t,  is  moral 
legitimacy — is  justice,  intelligence,  urid  truth  ;  it  next  obtains 
the  sanction  cf  time,  which  gives  reason  to  believe  that  affairs 
are  conducted  by  reason,  that  the  true  legitimacy  has  been  in- 
troduced. At  the  epoch  which  we  are  about  to  study,  you 
will  find  violence  and  fraud  hovering  over  the  cradle  of  mon- 
archy, aristocracy,  democracy,  and  even  over  the  church  it- 
self; you  will  see  this  violence  and  fraud  everywhere  gradually 
abated  ;  and  justice  and  truth  taking  their  place  in  civili- 
zation. It  is  this  introduction  of  justice  and  truth  into  our 
social  system,  that  has  nourished  and  gradually  matured  poli- 
tical legitimacy  ;  and  it  is  thus  that  it  has  taken  firm  root  in 
modern  civilization. 

All  those  then  who  have  attempted  at  various  times  to  set 
up  this  idea  of  legitimacy  as  the  foundation  of  absolute  pow- 
er, have  wrested  it  from  its  true  origin.  It  has  nothing  to  do 
with  absolute  power.  It  is  under  the  name  of  justice  and 
righteousness  that  it  has  made  its  way  into  the  world  and 
^found  footing.  Neither  is  it  exclusive.  It  belongs  to  no  par- 
ty in  particular ;  it  springs  up  in  all  systems  where  truth  and 
justice  prevail.  Political  legitimacy  is  as  much  attached  to 
liberty  as  to  power ;  to  the  rights  of  individuals  as  to  the 
forms  under  which  are  exercised  the  public  functions.  As  we 
go  on  we  shall  find  it,  as  I  said  before,  in  systems  the  most 
opposed  ;  in  the  feudal  system ;  in  the  free  cities  of  Flandere 
and  Germany ;  in  the  republics  of  Italy,  as  well  as  in  monar- 
chy. It  is  a  quality  which  appertains  to  all  the  divers  ele- 
ments of  our  civilization,  and  which  it  is  necessary  should  be 
well  understood  before  entering  upon  its  history. 

The  second  fact  revealed  to  us  by  that  simultaneous  ad- 
vancement of  claims,  of  which  I  spoke  at  the  beginning  of 
this  lecture,  is  the  true  character  of  what  ?s  called  the  period 
of  barbarism.  Each  of  the  elements  of  European  civiliza 
tion  pretends,  that  at  this  epoch  Europe  belonged  to  it  alone  ; 
hence  we  may  conclude  that  it  really  belonged  to  no  one  of 
them.  When  any  particular  kind  of  government  prevails  in 
the  world,  there  is  no  difficulty  in  recognising  it.  When  we 
come  to  the  tenth  century,  we  acknowledge,  without  hesita- 
tion, the  preponderance  of  feudalism.  At  the  seventeenth  wo 
hive  no  hesitation  in  asserting,  that  the  monarchical  principle 
prevails.  If  we  turn  our  eyes  to  the  free  communities  of 
Flanders,  to  the  republic?  of  Italy,  we  confess  at  once  the 


I  Iir.V    I.N     MODERN     R1  fcOFl 

miinanc«  of  democracy.     Whenever,  Indeed,   iny  <m< 

l.iii.cijilo  really  bears  sway  in  ?ociety,  it  cannot  be  mistaken.  ) 


The  dispute,  then,  that  has  arisen  among  the  various  sys- 
-  which  hold  a  part  in   European  civilization,  respecting 
which  bore  chief  sway  at  its  origin,  proves  that  they  all  ex- 
isted there  together,  without  any  one  of  them  having  prevail- 
ed so  generally  as  to  give  to  society  its  form  or  its  name. 

This  is,  indeed,  the  character  of  the  dark  age :  it  was  a 
chaos  of  all  the  elements ;  the  childhood  of  all  the  systems  ; 
a  universal  jumble,  in  which  even  strife  itself  was  neither 
permanent  nor  systematic.  By  an  examination  of  the  tocial 
system  of  this  period  under  its  various  forms,  I  could  show 
you  that  in  no  part  of  them  is  there  to  be  found  anything  like 
a  general  principle,  anything  like  stability.  I  shall,  however^ 
confine  myself  to  two  essential  particulars — the  state  of  per- 1 
sons,  the  state  of  institutions.  This  will  be  sufficient  to  give 
a  general  picture  of  society. 

We  find  at  this  time  four  classes  of  persons  :  1  st.  Freemen, 
that  is  to  say,  men  who,  depending  upon  no  superior,  upon  no 
patron,  held  their  property  and  life  in  full  liberty,  without  be- 
ing fettered  by  any  obligation  towards  another  individual.  2d 
The  Luedes,  Fideles,  Antrustions,  &c,  who  were  connected 
at  first  by  the  relationship  of  companion  and  chief,  and  after- 
wards by  that  of  vassal  and  lord,  towards  another  individua1 
to  whom  they  owed  fealty  and  service,  in  consequence  of  a 
grant  of  lands,  or  some  other  gifts.  3d.  Freedmen.  4th. 
Slaves. 

But  were  these  various  classes  fixed  ?  Were  men  once 
placed  in  a  certain  rank  bound  to  it  ?  Were  the  relations,  in 
which  the  different  classes  stood  towards  each  other,  regular 
or  pel  manent  1  Not  at  all.  Freemen  were  continually  chang- 
ing their  condition,  and  becoming  vassals  to  nobles,  in  consid- 
eration of  some  gift  which  these  might  have  to  bestow  ;  while 
others  were  falling  into  the  class  of  slaves  or  serfs.  Vassals 
were  continually  struggling  to  shake  off  the  yoke  of  patronage, 
m  regain  their  independence,  to  return  to  the  class  of  freemen. 
Every  part  of  society  was  in  motion.  There  was  a  continual 
i/assing  and  repassing  from  one  class  to  the  other.  No  man 
continued  long  in  the  same  rank :  no  r»nk  continued  long  th* 
same 


68  GENERAL     HISTORY     OF 

Property  was  in  much  the  same  state.     I  nted  scarcely 
|    tell  you,  that  possessions  were  distinguished  into  allodial,  o\ 
sntirely  free,  and  beneficiary,  or   such  as  were  held  by  ten' 
I    ure,  with  certain  obligations  to  be  discharged  towards  a  supe- 
rior.    Some  writers  attempt  to  trace  out  a  regular  and  estab  - 
lished  system  with  respect  to  the  latter  class  of  proprietors, 
and  lay  it  down  as  a  rule  that  benefices  were  at  first  bestowod 
for  a  determinate  number  of  years  ;  that  they  were  afterwards 
granted  for  life  ;  and  finally,  at  a  later  period,  became  heredi- 
tary.    The  attempt  is  vain.     Lands  were  held  in  all  these 
various  ways  at  the  same  time,  and  in  the  same  places.     Be- 
nefices for  a  term  of  years,  benefices  for  life,  hereditary  bene- 
fices, are  found  in  the  same  period ;  even  the  same  lands, 
within  a  few  years,  passed  through  these  different    states. 
There  was  nothing  more  settled,  nothing  more  general,  in  the 
/  state  of  lands  than  in  the  state  of  persons.     Everything  showa 
I    the  difficulties  of  the  transition  from  the  wandering  life  to  the 
settled  life  ;  from  the  simple  personal  relations  which  existed 
among  the  barbarians   as  invading  migratory  hordes,  to  the 
mixed  relations  of  persons  and  property.     During  this  transi 
lion  all  was  confused,  local,  and  disordered. 

In  institutions  we  observe  the  same  unfixedness,  the  samt 
chaos.  We  find  here  three  different  systems  at  once  before 
us: — 1st.  Monarchy;  2d.  Aristocracy,  or  the  proprietorship 
of  men  and  lands,  as  lord  and  vassal ;  and,  3dly.  Free  insti- 
tutions, or  assemblies  of  free  men  deliberating  in  common. 
/~No  one  of  these  systems  entirely  prevailed.  Free  institutions 
existed  ;  but  the  men  who  should  have  formed  part  of  these 
assemblies  seldom  troubled  themselves  to  attend  them.  Ba- 
ronial jurisdiction  was  not  more  regularly  exercised.  Monar- 
chy, the  most  simple  institution,  the  most  easy  to  determine, 
here  had  no  fixed  character  ;  at  one  time  it  was  elective,  at 
another  hereditary — here  the  son  succeeded  to  hi?  father, 
there  the  election  was  confined  to  a  family ;  in  another  place 
it  was  open  to  all,  purely  elective,  and  the  choice  fell  on  -* 
distant  relation,  or  perhaps  a  stranger.  In  none  of  these  sys- 
tems can  we  discover  anything  fixed ;  all  the  institutions,  w 
well  as  the  social  conditions,  dwelt  together,  continually  con 
founded,  continually  changing. 

The  same  unsettledness  existed  with  regard  to  states  ,  the) 
were  created,  suppressed,  united,  and  divided  ;  no  govern- 
ments, no  frrntiers  no  nations  ;  a  general  nimble  tf  .situations 


MODERN     i:i  K«)pfe  80 

niiiiciples,    events,     races,    languages       such    was    harbari;..! 
Europe.  . 

Let  us  now  fix  the  limits  of  this  extraordinary  peiiod.  Its 
>ri<iin  is  strongly  defined  ;  it  begin  with  the  fall  01  the  Roman 
empire.  Hut  where  did  it  close  ?  To  settle  this  question, 
We  must  find  out  the  causo  of  this  state  of  society;  we  must 
see  what  were  the  causes  of  barbarism. 

I  think  I  can  point  out  two  : — one  material,  arising  from 
exterior  circumstances,  from  the  course  of  events  ;  the  other, 
moral,  arising  from  the  mind,  from  the  intellects  of  man. 

The  material,  or  outward  cause,  was  the  continuance  of 
invasion  ;  for  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  invasions  of  the 
barbarian  hordes  stopped  all  at  once,  in  the  fifth  century.  Do 
not  believe  that  because  the  Roman  empire  was  fallen,  and 
kingdoms  of  barbarians  founded  upon  its  ruins,  that  the  move- 
ment of  nations  was  over.  There  are  plenty  of  facts  to  prove 
that  this  was  not  the  case,  and  that  this  movement  lasted  a 
Jong  time  after  the  destruction  of  the  empire. 

If  we  look  to  the  Franks,  or  French,  we  shall  find  even  the 
first  race  of  kings  continually  carrying  on  wars  beyond  the 
Rhine.  We  see  Clotaire,  Dagobert,  making  expedition  after 
expedition  into  Germany,  and  engaged  in  a  constant  struggle 
with  the  Thuringians,  the  Danes,  and  the  Saxons  who  occu- 
pied the  right  bank  of  that  river.  And  why  was  this  but  be- 
cause these  nations  wished  to  cross  the  Rhine  and  get  a  share 
in  the  spoils  of  the  empire  1  How  came  it  to  pass  that  the 
Franks,  established  in  Gaul,  and  principally  the  Eastern,  or 
Austrasian  Franks,  much  about  the  same  time,  threw  them- 
selves ir  such  large  bodies  upon  Switzerland,  and  invaded 
Italy  by  crossing  the  Alps  ?  It  was  because  th2y  were  push- 
ed forward  by  new  populations  from  the  north-east.  These 
invasions  were  not  mere  pillaging  inroads,  they  were  not  ex- 
peditions undertaken  for  the  purpose  of  plunder,  they  were/ 
the  result  of  necessity.  The  people,  disturbed  in  their  own 
settlements,  pressed  forward  to  better  their  fortune  and  find 
new  abodes  elsewhere.  A  new  German  nation  entered  uponA 
the  arena,  and  founded  the  powerful  kingdom  of  the  Lombard- 
tn  Italy.  In  Gaul,  or  France,  the  Merovinginian  dynasty 
jave.  way  to  the  Carlovingian  ;  a  change  which  is  now  g(n 


70  GENERAL    HISTORY     Ob' 

erally  acknowledged  to  have  been,  properly  speaku;g,  a  new 
irruption  of  Franks  into  Gaul — a  movement  of  nations,  which 
substituted  the  Eastern  Franks  for  the  Western.  Under  the 
second  race  of  kings,  we  find  Charlemagne  playing  the.same 
part  against  the  Saxons,  which  the  Merovinginian  princes 
played  against  the  Thuringians  :  he  carried  on  an  unceasing 
war  against  the  nations  beyond  the  Rhine,  who  were  pre- 
cipitated upon  the  west  by  the  Wiltzians,  the  Swabians, 
the  Bohemians,  and  the  various  tribes  of  Slavonians,  who 
trod  on  the  heels  of  the  German  lace.  Throughout  the 
north-east  emigrations  were  going  on  and  changing  the  face 
of  affairs. 

In  the  south,  a  movement  of  the  same  nature  took  place. 

While  the  German  and  Slavonian   tribes  pressed  along  the 

Rhine  and  Danube,  the  Saracens  began  to  ravage  and  conquer 

tl^e-  various  coasts  of  the  Mediterranean. 

I     The  invasion  of  the  Saracens,  however,  had  a  character 

(  peculiarly  its  own.     In  them  the  spirit  of  conquest  was  united 

With  the  spirit  of  proselytism ;  the  sword  was  drawn  as  well 

for  the  promulgation  of  a  faith  as  the  acquisition  of  territory. 

There  is  a  vast  difference  between  their  invasion  and  that  of 

the  Germans.     In  the  Christian  world  spiritual  force  and  tern 

Cporal  force  were  quite  distinct.  The  zeal  for  the  propagation 
of  a  faith  and  the  lust  of  conquest  are  not  inmates  of  the  same, 
bosom.  The  Germans,  after  their  conversion,  preserved  the 
same  manners,  the  same  sentiments,'  the  same  tastes,  as  be- 
fore ;  they  were  still  guided  by  passions  and  interests  of  a 
worldly  nature.  They  had  become  Christians,  but  not  mis- 
/"sionaries.  The  Saracens,  on  the  contrary,  were  both  con- 
y  querors  and  missionaries.  The  power  of  the  Koran  and  of  the 
sword  was  in  the  same  hands.  And  it  was  this  peculiarity 
which,  I  think,  ^ave  to  Mohammedan  civilization  the  wretch- 
ed character  which  it  bears.  It  was  in  this  union  of  the  tern 
poral  and  spiritual  powers,  and  the  confusion  which  it  created 
between  moral  authority  and  physical  force,  that  that  tyranny 
was  born  which  seems  inherent  in  their  civilization.  This  I 
believe  to  be  the  principal  cause  of  that  stationary  state  into 
which  it  has  everywhere  fallen.  This  effect,  however,  did 
not  show  itself  upon  the  first  rise  of  Mohammedanism ;  the 
union,  on  the  contrary,  of  military  ardor  and  religious  zeal, 
gave  to  the  Saracen  invasion  a  prodigious  power.  Its  ideas 
and  moral  passions  had  at  once  a  brilliancy  and  splendor  al- 
together wanting  in  the  Germanic  invasions  ;  h  displayed  it- 


Cl\  JUZATIOX     IN     MODERN     El/lOi'h.  71 

Mlfwitfa  more   energy  and  enthusiasm,  and  had  a  corrcHpon- 
Jent  rtiect  upon  tin1  minds  and  passions  of  men. 

Such  was  the  situation  of  Europe  from  the  fifth  to  the  ninth 
century.  Pressed  on  the  south  by  the  Mohammedans,  and  on 
the  north  by  the  Germans  and  Slavonians,  it  could  not  be 
otherwise  than  that  the  reaction  of  this  double  invasion  shouM 
keep  the  interior  of  Europe  in  a  state  of  continual  ferment 
Populations  were  incessantly  displaced,  crowded  one  upon 
another  ;  there  was  no  regularity,  nothing  permanent  or  fixed. 
Some  differences  undoubtedly  prevailed  between  the  various 
nations.  The  chaos  was  more  general  in  Germany  than  in 
the  other  parts  of  Europe  Here  was  the  focus  of  movement 
France  was  more  agitated  than  Italy.  But  nowhere  could  so\ 
ciety  become  settled  and  regulated ;  barbarism  everywhere 
continued,  and  from  the  same  cause  that  introduced  it.7 

7  The  following  chronological  indications  may  assist  in  recalling 

i  more  distinct  view  of  the  invasions,  conquests,  and  revolutions 

of  this  stormy  perioc*. 

507.  Clovis  (of  the  Merovingian  dynasty,  and  true  founder  of  the 
Prankish  empire)  adds  to  his  former  acquisitions  the  conquest 
of  the  Visicjojhk  kingdom.  Dies,  511.  Kingdom  divided  be- 
tween his  four  sons,  but  ultimately  united  under  one  of  them, 
Clotaire  I.,  568. 

530.  Thuringia  conquered  and  annexed  to  the  Frankish  dominions. 

535.  Conquest  of  Burgundy  by  the  Franks. 

55-1.  Ostro-Gothic  kingdom  destroyed  by  Narses — Italy  becomes  a 
province  of  the  Eastern  Empire. 

560.  Gepidae  destroyed  by  the  Lombards  and  Avars. 

£68.  Kingdom  of  the  Lombards  established  in  Upper  Italy. — South- 
ern Itaiy  continues  an  exarchate  of  the  Eastern  Empire. 

C28.  Dagobert  I.  (son  of  Clotaire  II.)  king  of  the  Franks.  Inva- 
sion of  the  Slavonians  (Wendi).  Mayors  of  the  Palace  con- 
trol the  royal  authority. 

587.  Pepin  Heristal,  mayor  of  the  palace. 

711.  The  Saracens  appear  in  Europe — conquer  Spain  -cross  the 
Pyrenees — checked  on  the  Aude,  712—  .nvade  France;  beaten 
by  Eudesduke  of  Aquitaine,  721 — driven  beyona  the  Aude,  725. 

715.  Charles  Martel  mayor  of  the  palace. 

'."96.  Leo  (Iconoclastes),  Emperor  of  the  East,  issues  an  edict 
against  image-worship — the  people  of  Rome  and  Naples  re- 
volt— exarch  of  Ravenna  murdered  by  the  people,  and  the  city 
yielded  to  the  Lombards.  A  sort  of  republic  under  the  au- 
thority of  the  Pope  established  at  Rome  ;  including  the  terri- 
tory from  Viterba  to  Terracina,  and  from  Narni  to  Ostia.  Com- 
mencement of  the  tr  nporal  powrr  of  the  Popes.     Thp  Topr 


72  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

Thus  much  for  the  material  cause  depending  upon  the  comae 
of  events  ;  let  us  now  look  to  the  moral  cause,  founded  on  the 
intellectual  condition  of  man,  which,  it  must  be  acknowledged, 
was  not  less  powerful. 

""  For,  certainly,  after  all  is  said  and  done,  whatever  may  be 
the  course  of  external  affairs,  it  is  man  himself  who  make? 
our  world.  It  is  according  to  the  ideas,  the  sentiments,  the 
moral  and  intellectual  dispositions  of  man  himself,  that  the 


and  the  republic  of  Venice  (founded  697)  unite  to  drive  the 
Lombards  from  Ravenna. 

732.  Saracens  invade  France — defeated  by  Charles  Martel  at  the 
Battle  of  Tours. 

752-757.  Pepin  the  Short,  mayor  of  the  palace — deposes  Childeric, 
the  last  of  the  Merovingian  kings — recognised  king  by  ihe 
Pope — founds  the  Carlovingian  dynasty. 

Exarchate  of  Ravenna  destroyed  by  the  Lombards — the  Pope 
and  the  Romans  refuse  submission — invite  the  aid  of  Pepin, 
who  invades  Italy  and  forces  the  Lombards  to  give  up  the 
exarchate  of  Ravenna  and  the  Pentapolis,  which  he  bestows 
upon  the  Pope.  Commencement  of  the  relations  between  the 
Popes  and  the  German  princes. 

"08.  Charlemagne  king — conquers  Aquitania,  769  ;  overthrows  the 
Lombard  kingdom  of  Italy,  774 ;  first  war  against  the  Sax- 
ons ;  drives  them  beyond  the  Weser,  772-774 ;  defeats  them 
again,  777  ;  war  against  Spain,  778 ;  second  war  against  the 
Saxons,  778-785 ;  subdues  all  on  the  south  of  the  Elbe,  com- 
pels them  to  receive  baptism.  The  Lombards  (of  Beneven- 
tum),  the  Greeks,  and  Avari,  league  against  him — defeated. 
Avari  subdued  and  Christianized,  791-799. 

800.  Charlemagne  restores  the  Roman  Empire  of  the  West ;  re- 
ceives the  imperial  crown  from  the  Pope ;  Saxons  on  the  Elbe 
subdued  and  dispersed,  812.  [The  subjugation  of  the  Saxons 
had  cost  Charlemagne  thirty  years  war.]  War  with  the 
Wiltzians  and  other  Slavonian  tribes.  Maritime  incursions 
of  the  Northmen  on  the  ocean  coast,  and  of  the  Saracens  on 
the  Mediterranean. 
*14.  Death  of  Charlemagne.  This  event  was  followed  by  the  dis- 
memberment of  his  empire,  and  the  formation  of  the  three 
great  states  of  Germany,  France,  and  Italy;  also  of  three 
secondary  kingdoms,  Castile,  Arragon,  and  Navarre. 

The  death  of  Charlemagne  and  the  breaking  up  of  his  vast 
system  likewise  opened  the  barriers  of  the  empire  to  the  in- 
cursions of  the  Saracens,  the  Northmen,  the  Slavonians,  and 
the  Hungarians  :  it  was  not  until  the  close  of  the  tenth  cen- 
tury that  the  barbarian  invasions  can  be  said  to  have  definite^ 


I  HON    !\    HO  DUN    RtTROPI  7'd 

A,\)xh\  is  regulated,  and  marches  onward.  Ii  is  upon  tho\ 
intellectnal  itate  of  man  that  the  visible  form  of  society/ 
lepends.  • 

m  lei  us  consider  for  ;i  moment  what  is  required  to  en 
sole  men  to  form  themselves  into  a  society  somewhat  durable, 
somewhat  regular  1  It  is  evidently  necessary,  in  the  first 
place,  that  they  should  have  a  certain  number  of  ideas  suffi- 
ciently enlarged  to  gettlp  upon  the  terms  by  which  this  society 
ehould  be  formed ;  to  apply  themselves  to  its  wants,  to  its  re- 
lations In  the  second  place,  it  is  necessary  that  these  ideas 
sJiQuliLhg  cgmmoix  to  the  greater  part  of  the^menibeiajaf  the 
society  ;  and  finally,  that  they  should  put  some  constraint  upon 
tlifiii^ojvvjijncli^^  • 

It  is  clear  that  where  men  possess  no  ideas  extending  be- 
yond their  own  existence,  where  their  intellectual  horizon  is 
bounded  in  self,  if  they  are  still  delivered  up  to  «heir  own 
passions,  and  their  own  wills. — if  they  have  not  among  them 
a  certain  number  of  notions  and  sentiments  common  to  them 
all,  round  which  they  may  all  rally,  it  is  clear  that  they  can- 
not form  a  society :  without  this  each  individual  will  be  a 
principle  of  agitation  and  dissolution  in  the  social  system  of 
which  he  forms  a  part. 

Wherever  individualism  reigns  nearly  absolute,  wherever\ 
man  considers  but  himself,  wherever  his  ideas  extend  not  be- 
yond himself,  wherever  he  only  yields  obedience  to  his  own  | 
passions,  there  society — that  is  to  say,  society  in  any  degree 
extended  or  permanent — becomes  almost  impossible.     Now 
this  was  just  the  moral  state  of  the  conquerors  of  Europe  at 
the  epoch  which  engages  our  attention.     I  remarked,  in  the\ 
last  lecture,  that  we  owe  to  the  Germans  the  powerful  senti- 
ment of  personal  liberty,  of  human  individualism.     Now,  in  a\ 
state  of  extreme  rudeness  and  ignorance,  this  sentiment  is 
mere  selfishness,  in  all  its  brutality,  with  all  its  unsociabilityj 
Such  was  its  character  from  the  fifth  to  the  eighth  century, 
among  the  Germans.     They  cared  for  nothing  beyond  their 
own  interest,  for  nothing  beyond  the  gratification  of  their  own 
jjassions,  their  own  inclinations  ;  how,  then,  could  they  ac- 
commodate themselves,  in  any  tolerable  degree,  to  the  social 
condition  ?     The  attempt  was  made  to  bring  them  into  it ;  they 
endeavored  of  themselves  to  enter  into  it ;  but  an  act  of  im- 
providence, a  burst  of  passion,  a  lack  of  intelligence,  soon 
threw-  them  back  to  their  old  position.     At  every  instant  wo 
see  attempts  made  to  form  man   into  a  social  slate,  and  a» 


74  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

every  instant  we  see  them  overthrown  by  the  failings  of  man,  by 
the  absence  of  the  moral  conditions  necessary  to  its  existence. 


Sucft  were  the  two  causes  which  kepi  our  forefathers  in  a 
state  of  barbarism ;  so  long  as  these  continued,  so  long  bar- 
barism endured.     Let  us  see  if  we  can  discover  when  and 
\  from  what  causes  it  at  last  ceased. 

Europe  labored  to  emerge  from  this  state.  It  is  contrary 
/  to  the  nature  of  man,  even  when  sunk  into  it  by  his  own  fault, 
to  wish  to  remain  in  it.  However  rude,  however  ignorant, 
however  selfish,  however  headstrong,  there  is  yet  in  him  a 
still  small  voice,  an  instinct,  which  tells  him  he  was  made  for 
something  better ; — that  he  has  another  and  higher  destiny. 
In  the  midst  of  confusion  and  disorder,  he  is  haunted  and  tor- 
mented by  a  taste  for  order  and  improvement.  The  claims 
of  justice,  of  prudence,  of  development,  disturb  him,  even 
under  the  yoke  of  the  most  brutish  egotism.  He  feels  him- 
self impelled  to  improve  the  material  world,  society,  and  him- 
self;  he  labors  to  do  this,  without  attempting  to  account  to 
nimself  for  the  want  which  urges  him  to  the  task.  The  bar- 
barians aspired  to  civilization,  while  they  were  yet  incapable 
of  it — nay,  more — while  they  even  detested  it  whenever  ite 
laws  restrained  their  selfish  desires. 

There  still  remained,  too,  a  considerable  number  of  wrecks 
and  fragments  of  Roman  civilization.  The  name  of  the  em- 
pire, the  remembrance  of  that  great  and  glorious  society  still 
dwelt  in  the  memory  of  many,  and  especially  among  the  sena- 
tors of  cities,  bishops,  priests,  and  all  those  who  could  trace 
their  origin  to  the  Roman  world. 

Among  the  barbarians  themselves,  or  their  barbarian  ances- 
tors, many  had  witnessed  the  greatness  of  the  Reman  empire  : 
they  had  served  in  its  armies  ;  the)  had  conquered  it.  The 
image,  the  name  of  Roman  civilization  dazzled  them ;  they 
felt  a  desire  to  imitate  it ;  to  bring  it  back  again,  to  preserve 
frome  portion  of  it.  This  was  another  cause  which  ought  to 
haA'e  forced  them  out  of  the  state  of  barbarism,  which  I  have 
described. 

A  third  cause,  and  one  which  readily  presents  itself  to 
4j  every  one  was  the  Christian  Church.    The  Christian  Church 


CIVILIZATION     IN     MODERN    EUROPE.  75 

was  a  regularly  constituted  society;  having  its  maxims,  its 
niles,  its  discipline,  together  with  an  ardent  desire  to  extend 
its  influence,  to  conquer  its  conquerors.  Among  the  Chris- 
tians of  this  period,  in  the  Catholic  clergy,  there  were  men  oi 
profound  and  varied  learning ;  men  who  had  thought  deeply, 
\\  ho  were  versed  in  ethics  and  politics  ;  who  had  formed  defi- 
nite opinions  and  vigorous  notions,  upon  all  rabjects  ;  who 
felt  a  praiseworthy  zeal  to  propagate  information,  and  to  ad- 
vance the  cause  of  learning.  No  society  ever  made  greater 
efforts  than  the  Christian  Church  did  from  the  fifth  to  the 
tenth  century,  to  influence  the  world  around  it,  and  to  assimi-  | 
late  it  to  itself.  When  its  history  shall  hecome  the  particular 
object  of  our  examination,  we  shall  more  clearly  see  what  it 
attempted — it  attacked,  in  a  manner,  barbarism  at  every  point, 
in  order  to  civilize  it  and  rule  over  it. 

Finally,  a  fourth  cause  of  the  progress  of  civilization,  a 
cause  which  it  is  impossible  strictly  to  appreciate,  but  which 
is  not  therefore  the  less  real,  was  the  appearance  of  great 
men.  To  say  why  a  great  man  appears  on  the  stage  at  a  cer- 
tain epoch,  or  what  of  his  own  individual  development  he  im- 
parts to  the  world  at  large,  is  beyond  our  power;  it  is  the 
secret  of  Providence  ;  but  the  fact  is  still  certain.  There  arc 
men  to  whom  the  spectacle  of  society,  in  a  state  of  anarchy 
or  immobility,  is  revolting  and  almost  unbearable ;  it  occa- 
sions them  an  intellectual  shudder,  as  a  thing  that  should  not 
be  ;  they  feel  an  unconquerable  desire  to  change  it ;  to  restore 
order  ;  to  introduce  something  general,  regular  and  permanent, 
into  the  world  which  is  placed  before  them.  Tremendous 
power !  often  tyrannical,  committing  a  thousand  iniquities,  i> 
thousand  errors,  for  human  weakness  accompanies  it.  Glori 
ous  and  salutary  power  !  nevertheless,  for  it  gives  to  human 
it\ ,  and  by  the  hand  of  man,  a  new  and  powerful  impulse. 

These  various  causes,  these  various  powers  working  to 
gether,  led  to  several  attempts,  between  the  fifth  and  nintl 
centuries,  to  draw  European  society  from  the  barbarous  state 
tnto  which  it  had  fallen. 

The  first  of  these   was  the   compilation  of  the  barbariai. 
1  aws  ;  an  attempt  which,  though  it  effected  but  little,  we  can 
not  pass  over,  because  it  was  made  by  the  barbarians  them- 
selves.    Between  the  oixth  and  eighth  centuries,  the  laws  of 
nearly  all  the  barbarous  nations  (which,  however,  were  nothing 


70  GENERAL    HISTORV    OP 

more  than  the  rude  customs  by  which  they  had  been  reguiat 
ed,  before  their  invasion  of  the  Roman  empire)  were  re- 
duced to  writing.  Of  these  there  are  enumerated  the  codes 
of  the  Burgundians,  the  Salii,  and  Ripuarian  Franks,  the 
Visigoths,  the  Lombards,  the  Saxons,  the  Frisons,  the  Ba- 
varians, the  Germans,  and  some  others.  This  was  evi- 
dently a  commencement  of  civilization — an  attempt  to  bring 
society  under  the  authority  of  general  and  fixed  principles. 
Much,  however,  could  not  be  expected  from  it.  It  published 
the  laws  of  a  society  which  no  longer  existed  ;  the  laws  of 
the  social  system  of  the  barbarians  before  their  establishment 
in  the  Roman  territory — before  they  had  changed  their  wan- 
dering life  for  a  settled  one  ;  before  the  nomad  warriors  be- 
came lost  in  the  landed  proprietors.  It  is  true,  that  here  and 
there  may  be  found  an  article  respecting  the  lands  conquered 
by  the  barbarians,  or  respecting  their  relations  with  the  an- 
cient inhabitants  of  the  country  ;  some  few  bold  attempts  were 
made  to  regulate  the  new  circumstances  in  which  they  were 
placed.  But  the  far  greater  part  of  these  laws  were  taken  up 
with  their  ancient  life,  their  ancient  condition  in  Germany  ; 
were  totally  inapplicable  to  the  new  state  of  society,  and  had 
but  a  small  share  in  its  advancement. 

In  Italy  and  the  south  of  Gaul,  another  attempt  of  a  differ- 
ent character  was  made  about  this  time.  In  these  places 
Roman  society  had  not  been  so  completely  rooted  out  as  else- 
where ;  in  the  cities,  especially,  there  still  remained  some- 
thing of  order  and  civil  life  ;  and  in  these  civilization  seemed 
to  make  a  stand.  If  we  look,  for  example,  at  the  kingdom  of 
the  Ostrogoths  in  Italy  under  Theodoric  we  shall  see,  even 
under  the  dominion  of  a  barbarous  nation  and  king,  the  muni- 
cipal form  taking  breath,  as  it  were,  and  exercising  a  consid- 
erable influence  upon  the  general  tide  of  events.  Here  Ro- 
man manners  had  modified  the  Gothic,  and  brought  them  in  a 
great  degree  to  assume  a  likeness  to  their  own.  The  same 
thing  took  place  in  the  south  of  Gaul.  At  the  opening  of  the 
sixth  century,  Alaric,  a  Visigothic  king  of  Toulouse,  caused  a 
collection  of  the  Roman  laws  to  be  made,  and  published 
under  the  name  of  Breviarum  Aniani,  a  code  for  his  Roman 
subjects.8 

8  Some  knowledge  of  these  codes  is  necessary.  Laws  are  the 
best  index  of  the  state  of  a  people :  but  the  barbarian  codes  are 


v.i»ii.i/..\  I XOM    IM    HOOKAN    HI  HOFfc,  77 

In  Spain,  a  different  power,  that  pi  the  church,  nuleavojud     <***& 
10  restore  the  work  of  civilization.     Instead  of  the   ancient 
German  aeeembUea  of  warriors,  the  assembly  that  had  most  ^ 

influence  in  Spain  was  the  Council  of  Toledo  ;  and  in  this  "^ 
council  the  bishops  bore  sway,  although  it  was  attended  by 
the  higher  order  of  the  laity.  ( )pcn  the  laws  of  the  Visigoth*, 
and  you  will  discover  that  it  is  not  a  code  compiled  by  bar- 
barians,  but  bean  convincing  marks  of  having  been  drawn  up 
by  the  philosophers  of  the  age — by  the  clergy.  It  abounds  in 
general  views,  in  theories,  and  in  theories,  indeed,  altogether 
foreign  to  barbarian  manners.  Thus,  for  example,  we  know 
that  the  legislation  of  the  barbarians  was  a  personal  legisla 
tion;  that  is  to  say,  the  same  law  only  applied  to  one  parti- 
cular race  of  men.  The  Romans  were  judged  by  the  old  Ro- 
man laws,  the  Franks  were  judged  by  the  Salian  or  R'ouarian 
code  ;  in  short,  each  people  had  its  separate  laws,  though 
united  under  the  same  government,  and  dwelling  together  in 
the  same  territory.  This  is  what  is  called  personal  legisla- 
tion, in  contradistinction  to  real  legislation,  which  is  founded 
upon  territory.  Now  this  is  exactly  the  case  with  the 
legislation  of  the  Visigoths  ;  it  is  not  personal,  but  territorial. 
All  the  inhabitants  of  Spain,  Romans,  Visigoths,  or  what  not, 
were  compelled  to  yield  obedience  to  one  law.  Read  a  little 
further,  and  you  will  meet  with  still  more  striking  traces  of 
philosophy.     Among  the  barbarians  a  fixed  price  was  put  upon ) 

particularly  interesting  as  the  first  result  of  the  contact  of  barbar- 
ism with  civilization.  In  fact,  the  collecting  and  reducing  to  writ- 
ing of  these  rude  customs  must  be  considered  partly  as  an  imitation 
of  the  Romans  by  their  conquerors. 

Of  the  Capitularies  some  knowledge  should  likewise  be  obtained. 
These  were  proclamations  or  laws  published  by  different  kings  from 
Clovis  to  Hugh  Capet.  Taken  in  connexion  with  the  codes,  they 
indicate  the  character  of  the  people,  and  the  changes  in  the  state 
of  society. 

The  original  sources  of  information  are  the  work  of  Lindenbro- 
;rius  for  the  codes,  of  Baluze  for  the  capitularies.  The  general 
reader  will  find  something  on  the  subject  in  Gibbon  and  in  Mon- 
tesquieu ;  but  Butler's  Horcc  Juridicee  is  the  best  book— concise,  yet 
complete  in  the  view  it  gives. 

Among  the  peculiarities  by  which  most  of  these  laws  are  distin- 
guished from  modern  legislation,  the  most  striking  is  perhaps  the 
BCt  that  all  offences  were  punished  with  fines*  Tr.is  is  significant 
)f  ihe  barharian  sentiment  of  individuality,  of  personal  indepen- 
dence. The  barbarian  will  not  suffer  his  life  or  liberty  to  be  af 
fisted  by  hi?  actions. 


,  Si 


78  OLNERAL    HISTORY    OF 

man,  according  to  his  rank  in  society — the  life  of  tho  baioa- 
/  rian,  the  Roman,  the  freeman,  and  vassal,  were  not  valued  at 
[  the  same  amount — there  was  a  graduated  scale  of  prices.  But 

I  the  principle  that  all  men's  lives  are  of  equal  worth  in  tho 
eyes  of  the  law,  was  established  by  the  code  of  the  Visigoths. 
The  same  superiority  is  observable  in  their  judicial  proceed- 
ings : — instead  of  the  ordeal,  the  oath  of  compurgators,  or  trial 
by  battle,  you  will  find  the  proofs  established  by  witnesses,  and 
ti  rational  examination  made  of  the  fact;  such  as  might  take 
place  in  a  civilized  society.  In  short,  the  code  of  the  Visi- 
goths bore  throughout  evident  marks  of  learning,  system,  and 
polity.  In  it  we  trace  the  hand  of  the  same  clergy  that  acted 
in  the  Council  of  Toledo,  and  which  exercised  so  large  and 
beneficial  an  influence  upon  the  government  of  the  country.9 

In  Spain  then,  up  to  the  time  of  the  great  invasion  of  the 
Saracens,  it  was  the  hierarchy  which  made  the  greatest  efforts 

advance  civilization. 


C  In  Prance,  the  attempt  was  made  by  another  power.     It 

/A was  the  work  of  great  men,  and  above  all  of  Charlemagne. 

Cxamine  his  reign  under  its  different  aspects  ;  and  you  will 

/pee  that  the  darling  object  of  his  life  was  to  civilize  the  nations 

*fc e  governed.     Let  us  regard  him  first  as  a  warrior.     He  was 

always  in  the  field  ;  from  the   south  to  the  north-east,  from 

>ne  Ebro  to  the  Elbe  and  Weser.     Perhaps  you  imagine  that 

fhese  expeditions  were  the  effect  of  choice,  and  sprung  from 

t\  pure  love  of  conquest  1     No  such  thing.     I  will  not  assert 

i  hat  he  pursued  any  very  regular  system,  or  that  there  was  much 

diplomacy  or  strategy  in  his  plans  ;  but  what  he  did  sprang 

Irom  necessity,  and  a  desire  to  repress  barbarism.     From  the 

beginning  to  the  end  of  his  reign  he  was  occupied  in  staying 

the  progress  of  a  double  invasion — that  of  the  Mohammedans 

in  the  south,  and  that  of  the  Germanic  and  Slavonic  tribes  in 

the  north.     This  is  what  gave  the  reign  of  Charlemagne  its 

military  cast.     I  have  already  said  that  his  expeditions  against 

the  Saxons  were  undertaken  for  the  same  purpose.     If  we 

I  pass  on  from  his  wars  to  his  government,  we  shall  find  the 

■  case  much  the  same :  his  leading  object  was  to  introduce  or- 

'\der  and  unity  in  every  part  of  his   extensive  dominions.     I 

s  Des  Michels  represents  the  code  of  the  Visigoths,  as  sanctioned 
by  Jie  Council  of  Toledo  in  688,  lo  h^ive  been  only  a  revision  anil 
amendment    f  the  code  of.Al.iric,  publisned  in  50ti, 


CI!  ii.r/A  no.v   ;n   modi  >PB. 

have,  noi  said  kingdom  or  itate,  because  these  words  are  loo 
precise  in  their  signification,  and  call  uj>  ideas  which  beat 
but  little  relation  to  the  society  of  which  Charlemagne  stood 
at  the  head  Thus  much,  however,  seems  certain,  that  when 
no  [bond  himself  master  of  this  vast  territory,  it  mortified  and 
ed  him  to  sec  all  within  it  so  precarious  and  unsettled — 
M  anarchy  and  brutality  everywhere  prevailing, — and  it 
was  the  first  wish  of  his  heart  to  better  this  wretched  condi- 
tion of  society.    He  endeavored  to  do  this  at  first  by  his  p  i 

.  whom  he  sent  into  every  part  of  his  dominions  to  find 
out  and  correct  abuses  ;  to  amend  the  maladministration  of 
justice,  and  to  render  him  an  account  of  all  that  was  wrong  ; 
and  afterwards  by  the  general  assemblies  or  parliaments  as 
they  have  been  called  of  the  Champ  de  Mars,  which  he  held 
more  regularly  than  any  of  his  predecessors.  These  assem- 
blies he  made  nearly  every  considerable  person  in  his  domin- 
ions to  attend.  They  were  not  assemblies  formed  for  the\ 
preservation  of  the  liberty  of  the  subject,  there  was  nothing  I 
in  them  bearing  any  likeness  to  the  deliberations  of  our  owry 
days.  But  Charlemagne  found  them  a  means  by  which  he 
could  become  well  informed  of  facts  and  circumstances,  and 
by  which  he  could  introduce  some  regulation,  some  unity,  into 
the  restless  and  disorganized  populations  he  had  to  govern. 

In  whatever  point  of  view,  indeed,  we  regard  the  reign  of 
Charlemagne,  we  always  find  its  leading  characteristic  to  be 
a  desire  to  overcome  barbarism,  and  to  advance  civilization. 
We  see  this  conspicuously  in  his  foundation  of  schools,  in  his  v 
collecting  of  libraries,  in  his  gathering  about  him  the  learned 
of  all  countries  ;  in  the  favor  he  showed  towards  the  influence 
of  the  church,  for  everything,  in  a  word,  which  seemed  like- 
ly to  operato  beneficially  upon  society  in  general,  or  the  in- 
dividual man. 

An  attempt  of  the  same  nature  was  made  very  soon  after- 
wards in  England,  by  Alfred  the  Great. 

These  are  some  of  the  means  which  were  in  operation,  froniX 
the  fifth  to  the  ninth  century,  in  various  parts  of  Europe  / 
nhich  seemed  likely  to  put  an  end  to  barbarism.  J 

C  None  of  them  succeeded.  Charlemagne  was  unable  to  es- 
tablish his  great  empire,  and  the  system  of  government  by 
which  he  wished  to  rule  it.     The  church  succeeded  no  better 


BO  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

in  its  attempt  in  Spain  to  found  a  system  of  theocracy.  And 
though  in  Italy  and  the  south  of  France,  Roman  civilization 
made  several  attempts  to  raise  its  head,  it  was  not  till  a  later 
period,  till  towards  the  end  of  the  tenth  century,  that  it  in 
reality  acquired  any  vigor.  Up  to  this  time,  every  effort  to  pui 
an  end  to  barbarism  failed:  they  supposed  men  more  advan- 
ced than  they  in  reality  were.  They  all  desired,  under  va- 
rious forms>  to  establish  a  society  more  extensive,  or  belter 
regulated,  than  the  spirit  of  the  age  was  prepared  for.  The 
attempts,  however,  were  not  lost  to  mankind.  At  the  com: 
mencement  of  the  tenth  century,  there  was  no  longer  any  visi- 
ble appearance  of  the  great  empire  of  Charlemagne,  nor  of  the 
glorious  councils  of  Toledo,  but  barbarism  was  drawing  nigh 
its  end.     Two  great  results  were  obtained  : 

1.  The  movement  of  the  invading  hordes  had  been  stopped 
both  in  the  north  and  in  the  south.  Upon  the  dismemberment 
if  the  empire  of  Charlemagne,  the  states,  which  became 
formed  upon  the  right  bank  of  the  Rhine,  opposed  an  effectual 
barrier  to  the  tribes  which  advanced  from  the  west.  The 
Danes  and  Normans  are  an  incontestable  proof  of  this.  Up 
to  this  time,  if  we  except  the  Saxon  attacks  upon  England, 
the  invasions  of  the  German  tribes  by  sea  had  not  been  very 
considerable :  but  in  the  course  of  the  ninth  century  they  be- 
came constant  and  general.  And  this  happened,  because  in- 
vasions by  land  had  become  exceedingly  difficult ;  society  had 
acquired,  on  this  side,  frontiers  more  fixed  and  secure ;  and 
that  portion  of  the  wandering  nations,  which  could  not  be 
pressed  back,  were  at  least  turned  from  their  ancient  course, 
and  compelled  to  proceed  by  sea.  Great  as  undoubtedly  was 
the  misery  occasioned  to  the  west  of  Europe  by  the  incur- 
sions of  these  pirates  and  marauders,  they  still  were  much 
less  hurtful  than  the  invasions  by  land,  and  disturbed  much 
less  generally  the  newly-forming  society.  In  the  south,  the 
case  was  much  the  same.  The  Arabs  had  settled  in  Spain  • 
and  the  struggle  between  them  and  the  Christians  still  con- 
tinued ;  but  this  occasioned  no  new  emigration  of  nations 
Bands  of  Saracens  still,  from  time  to  time,  infested  the  coasts 
of  the  MedkerraneaD,  but  the  great  career  of  Islamism  was 
arrested. 


«. 


2.  In  the  interior  or  Europe  we  begin  at  this  time  to  see 
the  wandering  life  decline  ;  populations  became  fixed  ;  estates 


CIVILIZATION    in    M(ii'ii;\    KUROPI.  81 

\wd  landed  poeeeeaions  became  settled  ;  ihe  relationa  betw< 

mm  and  man  no  longer  varied  from  day  to  day  under  the  in- 
flnence  of  force  or  chance.  The  interior  and  moral  condi- 
tion of  man  himself  began  to  undergo  a  change  ;  his  id- 
bis  sentiments,  began,  like  his  life,  to  assume  a  more  fixed 
character.  He  began  to  feel  an  attachment  to  the  place  in 
which  he  dwelt ;  to  the  connexions  and  associations  which  he 
here  formed ;  to  those  domains  which  he  now  calculated 
upon  leaving  to  his  children  ;  to  that  dwelling  which  hereafter 
became  his  castle  ;  to  that  miserable  assemblage  of  serfs  ami 
s  which  was  one  day  to  become  a  village.  Little  socie- 
i  very  where  began  to  be  formed;  little  states  to  be  cut 
out  according  to  the  measure,  if  I  may  so  say,  of  the  capaci- 
ties and  prudence  of  men.  There,  societies  gradually  became 
connected  by  a  tie,  the  origin  of  which  is  to  be  found  in  the 
manners  of  the  German  barbarians  :  the  tie  of  i  confederation 
which  would  not  destroy  individual  freedom.  On  one  side 
we  find  every  considerable  proprietor  settling  himself  in  his 
domains,  surrounded  only  by  his  family  an-d  retainers  ;  on  the 
other,  a  certain  graduated  subordination  of  services  and  rights 
existing  among  all  these  military  proprietors  scattered  over  the 
laud.  Here  we  have  the  feudal  system  oozing  at  last  out  oC~\ 
the  bosom  of  barbarism.  Of  the  various  elements  of  our  civi- 
lizations, it  was  natural  enough  that  the  Germanic  element 
should  first  prevail.  It  was  already  in  possession  of  power ; 
it  had  conquered  Europe  :  from  it  European  civilization  was 
to  receive  its  first  form — its  first  social  organization. 

The  character  of  this  form — the  character  of  feudalism, 
and  the  influence  it  has  exercised  upon  European  civilization 
— will  be  the  object  of  my  next  lecture  ;  while  in  the  very 
bosom  of  this  system,  in  its  meridian,  we  shall,  at  every 
step,  meet  with  the  other  elements  of  our  own  social  system, 
monarchy,  the  church,  and  the  communities  or  free  cities. 
We  shall  feel  pre-assured  that  these  were  not  destined  to  fall 
under  this  feudal  form,  to  which  they  adapted  themselves 
while  struggling  against  it ;  and  that  we  may  look  forward 
*o  the  hour  when  victory  will  declare  itself  for  them  in  then 
turn. 


LECTURE  IV 

THE    FEUDAL    SYSTEM. 

I  dave  thus  far  endeavored  to  give  you  a  view  of  the  state 
ol  Europe  upon  the  fall  of  the  Roman  empire  ;  of  its  state  in 
the  firsl  period  of  modern  history — in  the  period  of  barbarism. 
We  have  seen  that  at  the  end  of  the  period,  towards  the  b^« 
/ginning  of  the  tenth  century,  the  first  principle,  the  first  sy*- 
;  tern,  which  took  possession  of  European  society,  was  the  feu- 
.    dal  system — that  out  of  the  very  bosom  of  barbarism  sprung 
feudalism.     The  investigation  of  this  system  will  be  the  sub- 
ject of  the  present  lecture. 

1  need  scarcely  remind  you  that  it  is  not  the  history  of 
events,  properly  so  called,  that  we  propose  to  consider.  ] 
shall  not  here  recount  the  destinies  of  the  feudal  system.  The 
subject  which  engages  our  attention  is  the  history  of  civiliza- 
tion ;  it  is  that  general,  hidden  fact,  which  we  have  to  seek 
t-)r,  out  of  all  the  exterior  facts  in  which  its  existence  is 
contained. 

Thus  the  events,  the  social  crisises,  the  various  states 
hrough  which  society  has  passed,  will  in  no  way  interest  us, 
except  so  far  as  tney  are  connected  with  the  growth  of  civili- 
zation ;  we  have  only  to  learn  from  them  how  they  have  re* 
tarded  or  forwaroeu  this  great  work  ;  what  they  have  given  it, 
and  what  they  have  withheld  from  it.  It  is  only  in  this  point 
of  view  that  we  shall  consider  the  feudal  system. 

In  the  first  of  these  lectures  we  settled  what  civilization 
was  ;  we  endeavored  to  discover  its  elements ;  we  saw  that 
it  consisted,  on  one  side,  in  the  development  of  man  himself, 
of  the  individual,  of  humanity;  on  the  other,  of  his  outward 
or  social  condition.  When  then  we  come  to  any  event,  to  any 
system,  to  any  general  condition  of  society,  we  have  this  two- 
/  fold  question  to  put  to  it :  What  has  it  done  for  or  against  the 
/  development  of  man — for  cr  against  the  development  of  so- 
ciety  1     It  will,  however,  l^e  at  once  seen  that,  in  the  inves 


riLIZATION    IN   MODI  >PI ..  88 

i  *e  have  undertaken,  it  will  be  impossible  foi  u>  not 
tin'  in  contact  with  some  of  the  grandest  questions  in 
moral  philosophy.  When  wo  would,  for  example,  know  in 
what  an  event,  a  system,  has  contributed  to  the  progress  of 
man  and  of  society,  it  is  necessary  that  we  should  know  what 
is  the  true  development  of  society  and  of  man  ;  and  be  en- 
abled to  detect  those  developments  which  are  deceitful,  ille- 
gitimate,— which  pervert  instead  of  meliorate, — which  cause 
them  to  retrograde  instead  of  to  advance.  We  shall  not  at- 
tempt to  elude  this  task.  By  so  doing  we  should  mutilate 
and  weaken  our  ideas,  as  well  as  the  facts  themselves.  Be\ 
sides,  the  present  state  of  the  world,  the  spirit  of  the  age, 
compels  us  at  once  frankly  to  welcome  this  inevitable  alliance  J 
of  philosophy  and  history. 

This  indeed  forms  a  striking,  perhaps  th.»  essential,  char-\ 
acteristic  of  the.  present  times.  We  are  now  compelled  to  j 
consider — science  and  reality — theory  and  practice — right  / 
and  fact — and  to  make  them  move  side  by  side.  Down  to  the' 
present  time  these  two  powers  have  lived  apart.  The  world 
has  been  accustomed  to  see  theory  and  practice  following  two 
different  routes,  unknown  to  each  other,  or  at  least  never 
meeting.  When  doctrines,  when  general  ideas,  have  wished 
to  intermeddle  in  affairs,  to  influence  the  world,  it  has  only 
been  able  to  effect  this  under  the  appearance  and  by  the  aid 
of  fanaticism.  Up  to  the  present  time  the  government  of  hu- 
man societies,  the  direction  of  their  affairs,  have  been  divided 
between  two  sorts  of  influences  ;  on  one  side  theorists,  men 
who  would  rule  all  according  to  abstract  notions — enthusiasts  ; 
on  the  other,  men  ignorant  of  all  rational  principle, — experi- 
mentalists, whose  only  guide  is  expediency.  •  This  state  of 
things  is  now  over.  The  woi'd  will  no  longer  agitate  for  the 
sake  of  some  abstract  principle,  some  fanciful  theory — some 
Utopian  governmen.  which  can  only  exist  in  the  imagination 
of  an  enthusiast*;  nor  will  it  put  up  with  practical  abuses  and 
oppressions,  however  favored  by  prescription  and  expediency, 
where  they  are  opposed  to  the  just  principles  and  the  legiti- 
mate end  of  government.  To  ensure  respect,  to  obtain  con- 
fidence, governing  powers  must  now  unite  theory  and  prac- 
tice ;  hey  must  know  and  acknowledge  the  influence  of  both. 
They  must  regard  as  well  principles  as  facts  ;  must  respect 
ooifi  truth  and  necessity — must  shun,  on  one  hand,  the  blind 
pride  of  the  fanatic  theorist,  and,  on  the  other,  the  no  less 


34  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

blind  pride  of  the  libertine  practician.  To  this  better  slate  ol 
things  we  have  been  brought  by  the  progress  of  the  human 
mind  and  the  progress  of  society.  On  one  side  the  huinar. 
mind  is  so  elevated  and  enlarged  that  it  is  able  to  view  at 
once,  as  a  whole,  the  subject  or  fact  which  comes  under  it? 
notice,  with  all  the  various  circumstances  and  principles  which 
affect  it — these  it  calculates  and  combines — it  so  opposes, 
:nixes,  and  arranges  them — that  while  the  everlasting  principle 
is  placed  boldly  and  prominently  forward  so  as  not  to  be  mis- 
is  ken,  care  is  taken  that  it  shall  not  be  endangered,  that  its 
progress  shall  not  be  retarded  by  a  negligent  or  rash  estimate 
of  the  circumstances  which  oppose  it.  On  the  other  side, 
social  systems  are  so  improved  as  no  longer  to  shrink  from 
the  light  of  truth  ;  so  improved,  that  facts  may  be  brought  to 
the  test  of  science — practice  may  be  placed  by  the  side  of 
theory,  and,  notwithstanding  its  many  imperfections,  the  com- 
parison will  excite  in  us  neither  discouragement  nor  disgust. 
,  1  shall  give  way,  then,  freely  to  this  natural  tendency — to 
:his  spirit  of  the  age,  by  passing  continually  from  the  investi- 
gation of  circumstances  to  the  investigation  of  ideas — from 
an  exposition  of  facts  to  the  consideration  of  doctrines.  Per- 
haps there  is,  in  the  present  disposition  of  the  public,  another 
reason  in  favor  of  this  method.  For  some  time  past  there  has 
existed  among  us  a  decided  taste,  a  sort  of  predilection  foi 
facts,  for  looking  at  things  in  a  practical  point  of  view.  We 
have  been  so  much  a  prey  to  the  despotism  of  abstract  ideas 
of  theories, — they  have,  in  some  respects,  cost  us  so  dear, 
that  we  now  regard  them  with  a  degree  of  distrust.  We  like 
betier  to  refer  to  facts,  to  particular  circumstances,  and  to  judge 
>nd  act  accordingly.  Let  us  not  complain  of  this.  It  is  a 
new  advance — it  is  a  grand  step  in  knowledge,  and  towards 
the  empire  of  truth ;  provided,  however,  we  do  not  suffer  our- 
seh  es  to  be  carried  too  far  by  this  disposition — provided  that 
we  do  not  forget  that  truth  alone  has  a  right  to  reign  in  the 
world ;  that  facts  have  no  merit  but  in  proportion  as  they  beai 
its  stamp,  and  assimilate  themselves  more  and  more  to  its 
image  ;  that  all  true  grandeur  proceeds  from  mind ;  that  all 
expansion  belongs  to  it.  The  civilization  of  France  possess- 
es this  peculiar  character  ■  it  has  never  been  wanting  in  in- 
tellectual grandeur.  It  has  always  been  rich  in  ideas.  The 
jjower  of  mind  lias  been  great  in  French  society — greater, 
perhaps,  than  anywhere  else.  It  must  not  lose  this  happv 
oiivilege — it  must  not  fall  into  that  lower,  that  somewhat  ma- 


UITILISi  riOfl    IN'    mop,  )|  I 

cnil  condition  which  prevails  in  other  societies.  Intelb- 
gence,  theories,  must  still  maintain  in  France  the  same  rank 
which  they  have  hitherto  occupied. 

1  shall  not  then  attempt  to  shun  these  general  and  philo- 
sophical questions  :  I  will  not  go  out  of  my  way  to  seek  them, 
but  when  circumstances  bring  there,  naturally  before  me,  I 
shall  attack  them  without  hesitation  or  emharrassment.  This 
will  be  the  case  more  than  once  in  considering  the  feudal 
bystem  as  connected  with  the  history  of  European  civilization 


A^  great  proof  that  in  the  tenth  century  the  feudal  system  j  / 
wasjieet  ssut  v,  antTtho  only  social  system  practicable,  isjhvl  ' 
universality  of  its  adoption.  Wherever  barbarism  cease-?, 
feudalism  became  general.  This  at  first  struck  men  as  the 
triumph  of  chaos.  All  unity,  all  general  civilization  seemed 
gone  ;  society  on  all  sides  seemed  dismembered  ;  a  multitude 
of  petty,  obscure,  isolated,  incoherent  societies  arose.  ThL 
appeared,  to  those  who  lived  and  saw  it,  universal  anarchy — 
the  dissolution  of  all  things.  Consult  the  poets  and  historians  \ 
of  the  day  :  they  all  believed  that  the  end  of  the  world  was  at  ) 
hand.  Yet  this  was,  in  truth,  a  new  and  real  social  system 
which  was  forming :  feudal  society  was  so  necessary,  so  in- 
evitable, so  altogether  the  only  consequence  that  could  flow 
from  the  previous  state  of  things,  that  all  entered  into  it,  all 
adopted  its  form.  Even  elements  the  most  foreign  to  this 
system,  the  church,  the  free  communities,  royalty,  all  wero 
constrained  to  accommodate  themselves  to  it.  Churches  be- 
came sovereigns  and  vassals ;  cities  became  lords  and  vas- 
sals;  royalty  was  hidden  under  the  feudal  suzerain.  All 
things  were  given  in  fief,  not  only  estates,  but  rights  and  pri- 
vileges :  the  right  to  cut  wood  in  the  forests,  the  privilege  of 
fishing.  The  churches  gave  their  surplice-fees  in  fief:  the 
revenues  of  baptism — the  fees  for  churching  women.  In  the 
same  manner,  too,  that  all  the  great  elements  of  society  wero 
drawn  within  the  feudal  enclosure,  so  even  the  smallest  por- 
tions, the  most  trifling  circumstances  of  common  life,  became 
subject  to  feudalism. 

In  observing  the  feudal  system  thus  taking  possession  of 
every  part  of  society,  one  might  be  apt,  at  first,  to  believe 
that  the  essentia],  vital  principle  of  feudalism  everywhere  pre- 
vailed.    This  would  he  a  grand  mistake.     Although  they  pu/ 


( 


86  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

on  the  feudal  form,  yet  the  institutions,  the  elements  of  so- 
ciety -which  were  not  analogous  to  the  feudal  system,  did  not 
lose  their  nature,  the  principles  by  which  they  were  distin 
ished  The  feudal  church,  for  example,  never  ceased  fcj 
a  moment  to  be  animated  and  gC!verned  at  bottom  by  the  prin- 
ciples of  theocracy,  and  she  never  for  a  moment  relaxed  liei 
endeavors  to  gain  for  this  the  predominancy.  Now  she 
leagued  with  royalty,  now  with  the  pope,  and  now  with  the 
people,  to  destroy  this  system,  whose  livery,  for  the  time,  she 
was  compelled  to  put  on.  It  was  the  same  with  royalty  and 
the  free  cities  :  in  one  the  principle  of  .monarchy,  in  the  others 
the  piinciple  of  democracy,  continued  fundamentally  to  pre- 
•>  aii :  and,  notwithstanding  their  feudal  appearance,  these  va- 
rious elements  of  European  society  constantly  labored  to  de- 
liver themselves  from  a  form  so  foreign  to  their  nature,  and 
to  put  on  that  which  corresponded  with  their  true  and  vital 
principle. 

/  Though  perfectly  satisfied,  therefore,  of  the  universality  of 
the  feudal  form,  we  must  take  care  not  to  conclude  on  that  ac- 
!  count,  that  the  feudal  principle  was  equally  universal.  We 
must  be  no  less  cautious  not  to  take  our  ideas  of  feudalism 
indifferently  from  every  object  which  bears  its  physiognomy. 
In  order  to  know  and  understand  this  system  thoroughly — to 
unravel  and  judge  of  its  effects  upon  modern  civilization — we 
must  seek  it  where  the  form  and  spirit  dwell  together  ;  we 
must  study  it  in  the  hierarchy  of  the  laic  possessors  of  fiefs 
in  the  association  of  the  conquerors  of  the  European  territory. 
This  was  the  true  residence  of  the  feudal  system,  and  into 
this  we  will  now  endeavor  to  penetrate. 

I  said  a  few  words,  just  now,  on  the  importance  of  ques- 
tions of  a  moral  nature  ;  and  on  the  danger  and  inconvenience 
of  passing  them  by  without  proper  attention.  A  matter  of  a 
totally  opposite  character  arises  here,  and  demands  our  con- 
sideration ,  it  is  one  which  has  been,  in  general,  too  much 
t_ neglected.  I  allude  to  the  physical  condition  of  society;  to 
the  changes  which  take  place  in  the  life  and  manners  of  a 
people  in  consequence  of  some  new  event,  some  revolution, 
some  new  state  into  which  it  may  be  thrown.  These  changes 
have  not  always  been  sufficiently  attended  to.  The  modifica- 
tion which  these  great  crisises  in  the  history  of  the  world 
have  wrought  in  the  material  existence  of  mankind-7-in  the 
physical  conditions  of  +he  relations  of  mon  to  one  another— 


civilization    IK    MODERN    lienor  K.  37 

nave  not  Immmi  investigated  with  so  much  advantage  as  they 
might  have  been.  These  modifications  have  more  influence 
upon  the  general  body  of  society  than  is  imagined.  Every  one 
knows  how  much  has  been  said  upon  the  influence  of  climate, 
and  of  the  importance  which  Montesquieu  attached  to  it. 
Now  if  wc  regard  only  the  direct  influence  of  climate  upon 
man,  perhaps  it  has  not  been  so  extensive  as  is  generally  sup* 
posed  ;  it  is,  to  say  the  least,  vague  and  difficult  to  appreciate  j 
but  the  indirect  influence  of  climate,  that,  for  example,  which 
arises  from  the  circumstance  that  in  a  hot  country  man  lives 
in  the  open  air,  while  in  a  cold  one  he  lives  shut  up  in  his 
habitation — that  he  lives  hero  upon  one  kind  of  food,  and 
there  upon  another,  are  facts  of  extreme  importance ;  inas- 
much as  a  simple  change  in  physical  life  may  have  a  power- 
ful eflect  upon  the  course  of  civilization.  Every  great  revolu-N 
tion  leads  to  modifications  of  this  nature  in  the  social  system  J 
and  consequently  claims  our  consideration. 

The  establishment  of  the  feudal  system  wrought  a  change 
of  this  kind,  which  had  a  powerful  and  striking  influence  upon 
European  civilization.  It  changed  the  distribution  of  the ) 
poj^ulation.  Hitherto  the  lords  of  the  territory,  the  conquer- 
ing population,  had  lived  united  in  masses  more  or  less  nu- 
merous, either  settled,  in  cities,  or  moving  about  the  country 
in  bands  ,  but  by  the  operation  of  the  feudal  system  these  men 
were  brought  to  live  isolated,  each  in  his  own  dwelling,  at 
long  distances  apart.  You  will  instantly  perceive  the  influ- 
< Mice  which  this  change  must  have  exercised  upon  the  charac- 
ter and  progress  of  civilization.  The  social  preponderance — 
the  government  of  society,  passed  at  once  from  cities  to  the 
country ;  the  baronial  courts  of  the  great  landed  proprietors 
took  the  place  of  the  great  national  assemblies — the  public 
body  was  lost  in  the  thousand  little  sovereignties  into  which 
every  kingdom  was  split.  This  was  the  first  consequence — 
a  consequence  purely  physical,  of  the  triumph  of  the  feudal 
system.  The  more  closely  we  examine  this  circumstance, 
the  more  clearly  and  forcibly  will  its  effects  present  them- 
Stives  to  our  notice. 

\ 

Let  us  now  examine  this  society  in  itself,  and  trace,  out  ity 

influence   upon  the  progress  of  civilization.     We  will  take 

feudalism,  in  the  first  place,  in  its  most  simple  state,  in  its 

primitive  fundamental  form.     Wc  will  visit  a  ros^essor  of  3 


88  GENERAL    HISTORY    Ot 

fief  m  his  lonely  domain  ,  we  will  see  the  course  of  life 
which  he  leads  there,  and  the  little  society  by  which  he  is 
surrounded. 

Having  fixed  upon  an  elevated  solitary  spot,  strong  by  nu 
ture,  and  which  he  takes  care  to  render  secure,  the  iordl) 
proprietor  of  the  domain  builds  his  castle.  Here  he  settle? 
himself,  with  his  wife  and  children,  and  perhaps  some  few 
freemen,  who,  not  having  obtained  fiefs,  not  having  themselves 
become  proprietors,  have  attached  themselves  to  his  fortunes, 
and  continued  to  live  with  him  and  form  a  part  of  his  house- 
hold. These  are  the  inhabitants  of  the  interior  of  the  castle. 
At  the  foot  of  the  hill  on  wdiich  this  castle  stands  we  find 
huddled  together  a  little  population  of  peasants,  of  serfs,  who 
cultivate  the  lands  of  the  possessor  of  the  fief.  In  the  midst 
of  this  group  of  cottages  religion  soon  planted  a  church  and  a 
priest.  A  priest,  in  these  early  days  of  feudalism,  was  gene- 
rally the  chaplain  of  the  baron,  and  the  curate  of  the  village  , 
two  offices  which  by  and  by  became  separated,  and  the  vil- 
lage had  its  pastor  dwelling  by  the  side  of  his  church. 

Such  is  the  first  form,  the  elementary  principle,  of  feudal 
society.  We  will  now  examine  this  simple  form,  in  order  to 
'put  to  it  the  twofold  question  we  have  to  ask  of  every  fact, 
namely,  what  it  has  done  towards  the  progress — first,  of  man, 
himself;  secondly,  of  society? 

It  is  with  peculiar  propriety  that  we  put  this  twofold  ques- 
tion to  the  little  society  I  have  just  described,  and  that  we 
should  attach  importance  to  its  answers,  forasmuch  as  this  so- 
ciety is  the  type,  the  faithful  picture,  of  feudal  society  in  the 
aggregate  ;  the  baron,  the  people  of  his  domain,  and  the  priest, 
compose,  whether  upon  a  large  or  smaller  scale,  the  teudal 
system  when  separated  from  monarchy  and  cities,  two  dis' 
duct  and  foreign  elements. 


The  first  circumstance  which  strikes  us  in  looking  at  this 
little  community,  is  the  great  importance  with  which  the  pos- 
sessor of  the  fief  must  have  been  regarded,  not  only  by  him 
self,  but  by  all  around  him.  A  feeling  of  personal  conse- 
quence,  of  individual  liberty,  was  a  prevailing  feature  in  the 
character  of  the  barbarians.  The  feeling  here,  however,  wa^ 
oi  a  different  nature  ;  it  was  no  longer  simply  the  liberty  of 


ll.l/.vr.oN     ':>     MODKRN     I 

be  nan,  Of  the  warrior,  it  was  jih>  importance  of  the  proprie- 

.'l  the  luad  of  the  family,  of  the  master.  His  situation, 
with  regard  to  all  around  him,  would  naturally  beget  in  him 
an  idea  of  superiority — a  superiority  of  a  peculiar  nature,  and 
very  dificrent  from  that  we  meet  with  in  other  systems  of 
civilization.     Look,  for  example,  at  the  Roman  patrician,  who 

placed  in  one  of  the  highest  aristocratic  situations  of  the 
ancient  world.  Like  the  feudal  lord,  he  was  head  of  the 
family,  superior,  master  ;  and  besides  this,  lie  was  a  religious 
magistrate,  high  priest  over  his  household.  But  mark  the 
difference  :  his  importance  as  a  religious  magistrate  is  de- 
rived from  without.  It  is  not  an  importance  strictly  personal, 
attached  to  the  individual :  he  receives  it  from  on  high  ;  he  is 
the  delegate  of  divinity,  the  interpreter  of  religious  faith.  The 
Roman  patrician,  moreover,  was  the  member  of  a  corporation 
which  lived  united  in  the  same  place — a  member  of  the  sen- 
ate— again,  an  importance  which  he  derived  from  without 
lrom  his  corporation.  The  greatness  of  these  ancient  aristo- 
crats, associated  to  a  religious  and  political  character,  belonged 
to  the  situation,  to  the  corporation  in  general,  rather  than  to 
the  individual.  That  of  the  proprietor  of  a  fief  belonged  to 
himself  alone  ;  he  held  nothing  of  any  one  ;  all  his  rights,  all 
his  powrer,  centred  in  himself.  He  is  no  religious  magis- 
trate ;  he  forms  no  part  of  a  senate ;  it  is  in  the  individual,  in 
his  own  person,  that  all  his  importance  resides — all  that  he  is, 
he  is  of  himself,  in  his  own  name  alone.  What  a  vast  in\ 
fluence  must  a  situation  like  this  have  exercised  over  him  whoj 
enjoyed  it!  What  haughtiness,  what  pride,  must  it  have  en- 
gendered !  Above  him,  no  superior  of  whom  he  was  but  tho 
representative  and  interpreter  ;  near  him  no  equals  ;  no  gene- 
ral and  powerful  law  to  restrain  him — no  exterior  force  to 
control  him  ;  his  will  suffered  no  check  but  from  the  limits  of 
his  power,  and  the  presence  of  danger.  Such  seems  to  me 
the  moral  effect  that  would  naturally  be  produced  upon  the 
character  or  disposition  of  man,  by  the  situation  in  which  he 
was  placed  under  the  feudal  system. 


I  shall  proceed  to  a  second  consequence  equally  importantT\ 
.hough  too  little  noticed  ;  I  mean  the  peculiar  character  of  thvy 
feudal  family 

Let  us  consider  for  a  moment  the  various  family  systems 


90  OLNERAI     KIST'JR*     'JF 

Let  us  look,  in  the  first  place,  at  the  patriarchal  family,  ol 
*"  which  so  beautiful  a  picture  is  given  us  in  the  Bible,  and  ir 
numerous  Oriental  treatises.  We  find  it  composed  of  a  great 
number  of  individuals — it  was  a  tribe.  The  chief,  the  pa- 
triarch, in  this  case,  lives  in  common  with  his  children,  with 
his  neighbors,  with  the  various  generations  assembled  around 
ftim — all  his  relations  or  his  servants.  He  not  only  lives  with 
them,  he  has  the  same  interests,  the  same  occupations,  he 
leads  the  same  life.  This  was  the  situation  of  Abraham,  and 
of  the  patriarchs  ;  and  is  still  that  of  the  Bedouin  Arabs,  who, 
from  generation  to  generation,  continue  to  follow  the  same 
:>atriarchal  mode  of  life. 

Let  us  look  next  at  the  cla?i — another  family  system,  which 
now  scarcely  exists,  except  in  Scotland  and  Ireland,  but 
through  which  probably  the  greater  part  of  the  European 
world  has  passed.  This  is  no  longer  the  patriarchal  family. 
A  great  difference  is  found  here  between  the  chief  and  the 
rest  of  the  community ;  he  leads  not  the  same  life ;  the  great- 
er part  are  employed  in  husbandry,  and  in  supplying  his 
wants,  while  the  chief  himself  lives  in  idleness  or  war.  Still 
they  all  descend  from  the  same  stock  ;  they  all  bear  the  same 
name  ;  and  their  common  parentage,  their  ancient  traditions, 
the  same  remembrances,  and  the  same  associations,  create 
a  moral  tie,  a  sort  of  equality,  between  all  the  members  of 
the  clan. 

These  are  the  two  principal  forms  of  family  society  as  re- 
presented by  history.  Does  either  of  them,  let  me  ask  you, 
resemble  the  feudal  family?  Certainly  not.  At  the  first 
glance,  there  may,  indeed,  seem  some  similarity  between  the 
feudal  family  and  the  clan  ;  but  the  difference  is  marked  and 
striking.  The  population  which  surrounds  the  possessor  of 
the  fief  is  quite  foreign  to  him ;  it  bears  not  his  name.  They 
aiu  unconnected  by  relationship,  or  by  any  historical  or  moral 
tie.  The  same  holds  with  respect  to  the  patriarchal  family. 
The  feudal  proprietor  neither  leads  the  same  life,  nor  follows 
the  same  occupations  as  those  who  live  around  him ;  ho  is 
engaged  in  arms,  or  lives  in  idleness  :  the  others  are  laborers. 
/The  feudal  family  is  not  numerous — it  forms  no  tribe — it  is 
I  confined  to  a  single  family  properly  so  called ;  to  the  wife 
and  children,  who  live  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  people 
in  the  interior  of  the  castle.     The  peasantry  and  serfs  form 


M***y 


(       "    /  \         \    in    MODERN    KVROPB.  U  I 

no  part  Of  it  ;  they  are  of  another  origin,  ar.u  immeasurably 
beneath  it.  Five  or  six  individuals,  at  a  vast  height  above  them, 
and  at  the  MOM  time  foreigners,  make  up  the  feudal  family. 
Is  it  not  evident  that  the  peculiarity  of  its  situation  must  b 
men  to  this  family  ■  peculiar character  i  Confined,  concen- 
trated, called  upon  continually  to  defend  itself;  mistrusting, 
or  at  least  shutting  itself  up  from  the  rest  of  the  world,  even 
from  its  servants,  in-door  life,  domestic  manners  must  natural- 
ly have  acquired  a  great  preponderance.  We  cannot  keep 
out  of  sight,  that  the  grosser  passions  of  the  chief,  the  con- 
stantly passing  his  time  in  warfare  or  hunting,  opposed  a  con- 
siderable obstacle  to  the  formation  of  a  strictly  domestic  so— ' 
ciety.  But  its  progress,  though  slow,  was  certain.  The 
chief,  however  violent  and  brutal  his" out-door  exercises,  must 
habitually  return  into  the  bosom  of  his  family.  He  there  finds 
his  wife  and  children,  and  scarcely  any  but  them ;  they  alone 
are  his  constant  companions ;  they  alone  divide  his  sorrows  r  ^ , 
end  soften  his  joys  ;  they  alone  are  interested  in  all  that  con-  , 
cerns  him.  It  could  not  but  happen  in  such  circumstances, **^*** 
that  domestic  life  must  have  acquired  a  vast  influence ;  nor  is 
there  any  lack  of  proofs  that  it  did  so.  Was  it  not  in  the 
bosom  of  the  feudal  family  that  the  importance  of  women,  that  \ 
the  value  of  the  wife  and  mother,  at  last  made  itself  known  "LJ 
In  none  of  the  ancient  communities,  not  merely  speaking  of 
those  in  which  the  spirit  of  family  never  existed,  but  in  those 
in  which  it  existed  most  powerfully — say,  for  example,  in  the 
patriarchal  system — in  none  of  these  did  women  ever  attain 
to  anything  like  the  place  which  they  acquired  in  Europe 
under  the  feudal  system.  It  is  to  the  progress,  to  the  pre- 
ponderance of  domestic  manners  in  the  feudal  halls  and 
castles,  that  they  owe  this  change,  this  improvement  in  their 
condition.  The  cause  of  this  has  been  sought  for  in  the  pe- 
culiar manners  of  the  ancient  Germans  ;  in  a  national  respect 
which  they  are  said  to  have  borne,  in  the  midst  of  their  for- 
ests, to  the  female  sex.  Upon  a  single  phrase  of  Tacitus, 
Germanic  patriotism  has  founded  a  high  degree  of  superiority 
- — of  primitive  and  ineffable  purity  of  manners — in  the  rela- 
tions between  the  two  sexes  among  the  Germans.  Pure 
jhimeras!  Phrases  like  this  of  Tacitus — sentiments  and 
customs  analogous  to  those  of  the  Germans  of  old,  arc  found 
;n  the  narratives  of  a  host  of  writers,  who  have  seen,  or  in- 
quired into,  the  manners  of  savage  and  barbarous  tribes. 
There  is  nothing  primitive,  nothing  peculiar  to  a  certain  race 


92  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

in  thii  matter.  It  was  in  the  effects  of  a  very  decided  so- 
cial situation — it  was  in  the  increase  and  preponderance  of 
domestic  manners,  that  the  importance  of  the  female  sex  in 
Europe  had  its  rise,  and  the  preponderance  of  domestic  man- 
ners in  Europe  very  early  became  an  essential  characteristic 
m  the  feudal  system. 

A  second  circumstance,  a  fresh  proof  of  the  nfluence  of 
domestic  life,  forms  a  striking  feature  in  the  picture  of  a  teu 
dc.1  family  .  I  mean  the  principle  of  inheritance — the  spirit  of 
perpetuity  which  so  strongly  predominates  in  its  character 
This  spirit  of  inheritance  is  a  natural  off-shoot  of  the  spirit 
of  family,  but  it  nowhere  took  such  deep  root  as  in  the  feudal 
system,  where  it  was  nourished  by  the  nature  of  the  property 
with  which  the  family  was,  as  it  were,  incorporated.  The 
fief  differed  from  other  possessions  in  this,  that  it  constantly 
required  a  chief,  or  owner,  who  could  defend  it,  manage  it, 
discharge  the  obligations  by  which  it  was  held,  and  thus 
maintain  its  rank  in  the  general  association  of  the  great  pro- 
prietors of  the  kingdom.  There  thus  became  a  kind  of  iden- 
ification  of  the  possessor  of  the  fief  with  the  fief  itself,  and 
with  all  its  future  possessors. 

This  circumstance  powerfully  tended  to  strengthen  and  knit 
together  the  ties  of  family,  already  so  strong  by  the  nature  of 
the  feudal  svstem  itself. 


Quitting  the  baronial  dwelling,  let  us  now  descend  to  the 
little  population  that  surrounds  it.  Everything  here  wears  a 
different  aspect.  The  disposition  of  man  is  so  kindly  and 
good,  that  it  is  almost  impossible  for  a  number  of  individuals 
to  be  placed  for  any  length  of  time  in  a  social  situation  with- 
out giving  birth  to  a  certain  moral  tic  between  them  :  senti- 
ments of  protection,  of  benevolence,  of  affection,  spring  up 
naturally.  Thus  it  happened  in  the  feudal  system.  There 
can  be  no  doubt,  but  that  after  a  certain  time,  kind  and  friend- 
ly feelings  would  grow  up  between  the  feudal  lord  and  his 
serfs.  This,  however,  took  place  in  spite  of  their  relative 
situation,  and  by  no  means  through  its  influence.  Considered 
in  itself,  this  situation  was  radically  vicious.  There  was 
nothing  morally  common  between  the  holder  of  the  fief  and 
his  serfs.  They  formed  part  of  his  estate ;  they  were  his 
property ;  and  under  this  word  property  arc  comprised,  not 


CIVILIZATION    IX    VODSRN     i  r  HOPE.  >V\ 

mty  nil  the  lights  which  we  delegate  to  the  public  magistrate 

o  IIIOHlMHI  ill  tin'   BUM    Of  tin*    state,   hut    likewise    all    tlt08C 

which  we  possess  over  private  property  :  the  right  of  making 
aws,  of  levying  taxes,  of  inflicting  punishment,  as  well  as 
that  of  disposing  of  them — or  selling  them.  There  existed 
not,  in  fact,  between  the  lord  of  the  domain  and  its  cultivators, 
so  far  as  we  consider  the  latter  as  men,  either  rights,  guaran 
tee,  or  society. 

Prom  this  1  believe  lias  arisen  that  almost  universal,  invin- 
cible hatred  which  country  people  have  at  all  times  borne  to 
the  feudal  system,  to  every  remnant  of  it — to  its  very  name. 
We  are  not  without  examples  of  men  having  submitted  to  the 
!>e:ivy  yoke  of  despotism,  of  their  having  become  at  customed 
to  it,  nay  more,  of  their  having  freely  accepted  it.  Religious 
despotism,  monarchical  despotism,  have  more  than  once  oh 
tained  the  sanction,  almost  the  love,  of  the  population  which/ 


Lhey  governed.  But  feudal  despotism  has  always  been  re- 
pulsed, always  hateful.  It  tyrannized  over  the  destinies  of 
men,  without  ruling  in  their  hearts.  Perhaps  this  may  bo 
partly  accounted  for  by  the  fact,  that,  in  religious  and  monar- 
chical despotism,  authority  is  always  exercised  by  virtue  o( 
some  belief  or  opinion  common  to  both  ruler  and  subjects  ;  h<: 
is  the  representative,  the  minister,  of  another  power  superior 
to  all  human  powers.  He  speaks  or  acts  in  the  name  of  Di- 
vinity or  of  a -common  feeling,  and  not  in  the  name  of  man 
himself,  of  man  alone.  Feudal  despotism  differed  from  this  ;  N 
it  was  the  authority  of  man  over  man ;  the  domination  of  the 
personal,  capricious  will  of  an  individual.  This  perhaps  is 
the  only  tyranny  to  which  man,  much  to  his  honor,  never  will 
submit.  Wherever  in  a  ruler,  or  master,  he  sees  but  the  in 
dividual  man, — the  moment  that  the  authority  which  presses 
upon  him  is  no  more  than  an  individual,  a  human  will,  one 
like  his  own,  he  feels  mortified  and  indignant,  and  struggles 
ugainst  the  yoke  which  he  is  compelled  to  bear.  Such  was 
the  true,  the  distinctive  character  of  the  feudal  power,  and 
buch  was  the  origin  of  the  hatred  which  it  has  never  ceased 
to  inspire. 

The  re.igious  element  which  was  associated  with  the*  fen 
dul  power  was  but  little  calculated  to  alleviate  its  yoke.  I 
eki  not  see  how  the  influence  of  the  priest  could  be  very  great 
in  the  society  which  I  have  just  described,  or  that  he  could 
nave  much  success  in  legitimizing  the  connexion  between  the 
enslaved  people  and  the  lordly  proprietor     The  rhureh  has  ex 


94  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

Grcised  a  very  powerful  influence  in  the  civilizati3n  of  Europe 
but  then  it  has  been  by  proceeding  in  a  general  manner— by 
changing  the  general  dispositions  of  mankind.  When  we  en 
ter  intimately  into  the  little  feudal  society,  properly  so  called, 
we  find  the  influence  of  the  priest  between  the  baron  and  his 
serfs  to  have  been  very  slight.  It  most  frequently  happened 
that  he  was  r*s  rude  and  nearly  as  much  under  control  as  the 
serf  himself ;  and  therefore  not  very  well  fitted,  either  by  his 
[>osition  or  talents,  to  enter  into  a  contest  with  the  lordly  ba- 
ron. We  must,  to  be  sure,  naturally  suppose,  that,  called  upon 
as  he  was  by  his  office  to  administer  and  to  kt  ?p  alive  among 
'hese  poor  people  the  great  moral  truths  of  Christianity,  he 
became  endeared  and  useful  to  them  in  this  respect ;  he  con- 
soled and  instructed  them  ;  but  I  believe  he  had  but  little 
power  to  soften  their  hard  condition. 


Having  examined  the  feudal  system  in  its  rudest,  its  sim 
plest  form  ;  having  placed  before  you  the  principal  conse- 
quences which  flowed  from  it,  as  respects  the  possessor  of 
the  fief  himself,  as  respects  his  family,  and  as  respects  the 
population  gathered  about  him ;  let  us  now  quit  this  narrow 
precinct.  The  population  of  the  fief  was  not  the  only  one  in 
the  land  :  there  were  other  societies  more  or  less  like  his 
own  of  which  he  was  a  member — with  which  he  was  con- 
nected. What,  then,  let  us  ask,  was  the  influence  which  this 
general  society  to  which  he  belonged  might  be  expected  to 
exercise  upon  civilization  ? 

One  short  observation  before  we  reply  :  both  the  possessoi 
of  the  fief  and  the  priest,  it  is  true,  formed  part  of  a  general 
society;  in  the  distance  they  had  numerous  and  frequent 
connexions  ;  not  so  the  cultivators — the  serfs.  Every  time 
that,  in  speaking  of  the  population  of  the  country  at  this  pe- 
riod, we  make  use  of  some  general  term,  which  seems  to  con- 
vey the  idea  of  one  single  and  same  society — such  for  exam- 
ple as  the  word  people — we  speak  without  truth.  For  thih 
population  there  was  no  general  society — its  existence  was 
purely  local.  Beyond  the  estate  in  which  they  dwelt,  tho 
serfs  had  no  relations  whatever, — no  connexion  either  with 
persons,  things,  or  government.  For  them  there  existed  no 
common  destiny,  no  common  country — they  formed  not  a  na- 
tion. When  we  speak  of  the  feudal  association  as  a  whole 
H  is  only  the  great  proprietor?  'hat  are  alluded  to. 


Cn  ii  tJ  \  i     <\    in    HODKR*    it  i;nrK.  o.r> 

Let  L8  now  see  what  the   relations  of  tlio  little  feudal  so    \ 
jioty  were   with  the  genera]   society  to  which  it.  held,  and  J 
what  consequences  these  relations  may  be  expected  to  have 
»d  to  in  the  progress  of  civilization. 

We  all  know  what  the  ties  were  which  bound  together  the 
possessors  of  fiefs;  what  conditions  were  attached  to  their 
possessions ;  what  were  the  obligations  of  service  on  one 
part,  and  of  protection  on  the  other.  I  shall  not  enter  into  I 
detail  of  these  obligations  ;  it  is  enough  for  the  present  purpose 
that  you  have  a  general  idea  of  them.  This  system,  however, 
seemed  naturally  to  pour  into  the  mind  of  every  possessor  of 
a  fief  a  certain  number  of  ideas  and  moral  sentiments — ideaj 
of  duty,  sentiments  of  affection.  That  the  principles  of  fidelity, 
devotedness,  loyalty,  became  developed,  and  maintained  by 
the  relations  in  which  the  possessors  of  fiefs  stood  towards 
one  another,  is  evident.     The  fact  speaks  for  itself. 

The  attempt  was  made  to  change  these  obligations,  these 
duties,  these  sentiments,  and  so  on,  into  laws  and  institutions. 
It  is  well  known  that  feudalism  wished  legally  to  settle  whi.t 
services  the  possessor  of  a  fief  owed  to  his  sovereign  ;  what 
services  he  had  a  right  to  expect  from  him  in  return  ;  in  what 
cases  the  vassal  might  be  calleu  upon  to  furnish  military  or 
pecuniary  aid  to  his  lord  ;  in  what  way  the  lord  might  obtain 
the  services  of  his  vassals,  in  those  affairs,  in  which  they 
were  not  bound  to  yield  them  by  the  mere  possession  of  their 
fiefs.  The  attempt  was  made  to  place  all  these  rights  under 
the  protection  of  institutions  founded  to  ensure  their  respect. 
Thus  the  baronial  jurisdictions  were  erected  to  administer  jus- 
tice between  the  possessors  of  fiefs,  upon  complaints  duly  laid 
before  their  common  suzerain.  Thus  every  baron  of  any  con- 
sideration collected  his  vassals  in  parliament,  to  debate  i'i 
common  the  affairs  which  required  their  consent  or  concu;- 
rence.  There  was,  in  short,  a  combination  of  political,  judi- 
cial, and  military  means,  which  show  the  attempt  to  organize 
the  feudal  system— to  convert  the  relations  between  the  pos- 
sessors of  fiefs  into  laws  and  institutions. 

But  these  laws,  these  institutions,  had  no  stability — no 
guarantee. 

If  it  should  be  asked  what  is  a  political  guarantee,  I  am 
compelled  to  look  back  to  its  fundamental  character,  and  to 
state  that  this  is  the  constant  existence,  in  the  bosom  of  society. 
i(  a  will,  of  an  authority  disposed  and  in  a  condition  to  impose 


96  GENERAL.    HISTORY    OF 

a  law  upon  the  wills  and  powers  of  private  individuals — u 
enforce  their  obedience  to  the  common  rule,  to  make  them 
respect  the  general  law. 

There  are  only  two  systems  of  political  guarantees  possi- 
ble r  the^e  must  be  either  a  will,  a  particular  power,  so  supe- 
rior to  the  others  that  none  of  them  can  resist  it,  but  are  obliged 
to  yield  to  its  authority  whenever  it  is  interposed  ;  or,  on  Lie 
other,  a  public  will,  the  result  of  the  concurrence — of  the  de- 
velopment of  the  wills  of  individuals,  and  which  likewise  is 
hi  a  condition,  when  once  it  has  expressed  itself,  to  make  it- 
s<  If  obeyed  and  respected  by  all. 

These  are  the  only  two  systems  of  political  guarantees  pos- 
sible ;  the  despotism  of  one  alone,  or  of  a  body  ;  or  free  gov- 
ernment. If  we  examine  the  various  systems,  we  shall  find 
that  they  may  all  be  brought  under  one  of  these  two. 


( 
\ 


Well,  neither  of  these  existed,  or  could  exist,  under  the 
feudal  system. 


Without  doubt  the  possessors  of  fiefs  were  not  all  equal 
among  themselves.  There  were  some  much  more  powerful 
than  others  ;  and  very  many  sufficiently  powerful  to  oppress 
ihe  weaker.  But  there  was  none,  from  the  king,  the  first  of 
proprietors,  downward,  who  was  in  a  condition  to  impose  law 
upon  all  the  others  ;  in  a  condition  to  make  himself  obeyed. 
Call  to  mind  that  none  of  the  permanent  means  of  power  and 
influence  at  this  time  existed — no  standing  army — no  regular 
taxes — no  fixed  tribunals.  The  social  authorities — the  insti- 
tutions, had,  in  a  manner,  to  be  new  formed  every  time  they 
were  wanted.  A  tribunal  had  to  be  formed  for  every  trial — - 
an  army  to  be  formed  for  every  war — a  revenue  to  be  formed 
every  time  that  money  was  needed.  All  was  occasional — 
accidental — special ;  there  was  no  central,  permanent,  inde- 
pendent means  of  government.  It  is  evident  that  in  such  a 
system  no  individual  had  the  power  to  enforce  his  will  upon 
Others  ;  to  compel  all  to  respect  and  obey  the  general  law. 

On  the  other  hand,  resistance  was  easy,  in  proportion  as 
repression  was  difficult.  Shut  up  in  his  castle,  with  but  a 
timall  number  of  enemies  to  cope  with,  and  aware  that  other 
vassals  in  a  like  situation  were  ready  to  join  and  assist  him, 
the  possessor  of  a  fief  found  but  little  difficulty  in  defending 
1  imsnlf. 


CIVILISATION    IN    NOD  J  97 

It  must  then,  I  think,  be  confessed,  that  the  first  BYttl  m  (A 
oolitical  guarantees — namely,  that  which  would  make  all  re- 
sponsible to  the  strongest — has  been  shown  to  be  impDssiblc 
under  the  feudal  system. 

The  other  system — that  of  free  government,  of  a  public 
power,  a  public  authority — was  just  as  impracticable.  The 
ft  ason  is  simple  enough.  When  wo  speak  now  of  a  public 
tx)wer,  of  what  we  call  the  rights  of  sovereignty — that  is,  tho 
right  of  making  laws,  of  imposing  taxes,  of  inflicting  punish- 
ment, we  know,  we  bear  in  mind,  that  these  rights  belong  to 
nobody ;  that  no  one  has,  on  his  own  account,  the  right  to 
punish  others,  or  to  impose  any  burden  or  law  upon  them./ 
These  are  rights  which  belong  only  to  the  great  body  of  so- 
ciety, which  are  exercised  only  in  its  name ;  they  are  ema- 
nations from  the  people,  and  held  in  trust  for  their  benefit. 
Thus  it  happens  that  when  an  individual  is  brought  before  an 
authority  invested  with  these  rights,  the  sentiment  that  pre- 
dominates in  his  mind,  though  perhaps  he  himself  may  be  un- 
conscious of  it,  is,  that  he  is  in  the  presence  of  a  public  le- 
gitimate authority,  invested  with  the  power  to  command  him, 
an  authority  which,  beforehand,  he  has  tacitly  acknowledged. 
This  was  by  no  means  the  case  under  the  feudal  system. 
The  possessor  of  a  fief,  within  his  domain,  was  invested  with 
all  the  rights  and  privileges  of  sovereignty  ;  he  inherited  them 
with  the  territory ;  they  were  a  matter  of  private  property. 
What  are  now  called  public  rights  were  then  private  rights  ; 
what  are  now  called  public  authorities  were  then  private  au- 
thorities. When  the  possessor  of  a  fief,  after  having  exercised 
sovereign  power  in  his  own  name,  as  proprietor  over  all  the 
population  which  lived  around  him,  attended  an  assembly,  at- 
tended a  parliament  held  by  his  sovereign — a  parliament  not 
in  genoral  very  numerous,  and  composed  of  men  of  the  same 
«*rade,  or  nearly  so,  as  himself — he  did  not  carry  with  him  any 
lotion  of  a  public  authority.  This  idea  was  in  direct  contra- 
diction to  all  about  him — to  all  his  notions,  to  all  that  he  had 
done  within  his  own  domains.  All  he  saw  in  these  assemblies 
were  men  invested  with  the  same  rights  as  himself,  in  the 
same  situation  as  himself,  acting  as  he  had  done  by  virtue  of 
their  own  personal  title.  Nothing  led  or  compelled  him  to 
w?o  or  acknowledge  in  the  very  highest  portion  of  the  govern- 
ment, or  in  the  institutions  which  we  call  public,  that  charac- 
ter of  superiority  or  generality  which  seems  to  us  bound  up 


98  GENERAL    HISTORY    OX 

with  the  no  .ion  oi  political  power.  Hence,  if  he  was  dissatia 
fied  with  its  decision,  he  refused  to  concur  in  it,  and  perhaps 
called  in  force  to  resist  it. 

/>  Force,  indeed,  was  the  true  and  usual  guarantee  of  riglu 

i    under  the  feudal  system,  if  force  can  be  called  a  guarantee. 

v  Every  law  continually  had  recourse  to  force  to  make  itsel/ 
respected  or  acknowledged.  No  institution  succeeded  unde; 
it.  This  was  so  perfectly  felt  that  institutions  were  scarcely 
ever  applied  to.  If  the  agency  of  the  baronial  courts  or  par 
liaments  of  vassals  had  been  of  any  importance,  we  should 
find  them  more  generally  employed  than,  from  history,  they 
appear  to  have  been.  Their  rarity  proves  iheir  insignificance. 
This  is  not  astonishing.  There  is  another  reason  for  is 
^nore  profound  and  decisive  than  any  I  have  yet  adduced. 

Of  all  the  systems  of  government  and  political  guarantee, 
it  may  be  asserted,  without  fear  of  contradiction,  that  the  most 
difficult  to  establish  and  render  effectual  is  the  federative  sys- 
tem ;  a  system  which  consists  in  leaving  in  each  place  or 
province,  in  every  separate  society,  all  that  portion  of  govern- 
ment which  can  abide  there,  and  in  taking  from  it  only  so 
much  of  it  as  is  indispensable  to  a  general  society,  in  order 

\  to  carry  it  to  the  centre  of  this  larger  society,  and  there  to 
imbody  it  under  the  form  of  a  central  government.  This 
federative  system,  theoretically  the  most  simple*,  is  found  in 
practice  the  most  complex  ;  for  in  order  to  reconcile  the  de- 
gree of  independence,  of  local  liberty,  which  is  permitted  to 
remain,  with  the  degree  of  general  order,  of  general  submis- 
sion, which  in  certain  cases  it  supposes  and  exacts,  evidently 
requires  a  very  advanced  state  of  civilization — requires,  in- 
deed, that  the  will  of  man,  that  individual  liberty,  should  con- 
cur in  the  establishment  and  maintenance  of  the  system  much 
more  than  in  any  other,  because  it  possesses  less  than  any 
other  the  means  of  coercion. 

The  federative  system,  then,  is  one  which  evidently  requires 
the  greatest  maturity  of  reason,  of  morality,  of  civilization  in 
he  society  to  which  it  is  applied.  Yet  we  find  that  this  wras 
the  kind  of  government  which  the  feudal  system  attempted  to 
establish :  for  feudalism,  as  a  whole,  was  truly  a  confedera- 
tion. It  rested  upon  the  same  principles,  for  example,  a? 
those  en  which  is  based,  in  the  present  day,  the  federative 
tyatem  of  the  United  States  of  America.  It  affected  to  leave 
In  the  hands  of  each  greac  proprietor  all  that  portion  of  the 
f*ovcrnme:r.,  of  sovereignty,  which  could  be  exercised  there* 


Vil 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  09 

unJ  to  carry  to  the  suzerain,  or  to  the  general  assembly  of  ba- 
tons, the  least  possible  portion  of  power,  and  only  this  in 
cases  of  absolute  necessity.  You  will  easily  conceive  the  im 
possibility  of  establishing  a  system  like  this  in  a  world  of 
ignorance,  of  brute  passions,  or,  in  a  word,  where  the  moral 
condition  of  man  was  so  imperfect  as  under  the  feudal  system. 
The  very  nature  of  such  a  government  was  in  opposition  to^ 
the  notions,  the  habits  and  manners  of  the  very  men  to  whom 
it  was  to  be  applied.  How  then  can  we  be  astonished  at  the 
bad  success  of  this  attempt  at  organization  ? 


Wo  have  now  considered  the  feudal  system,  first,  in  its 
most  simple  element,  in  its  fundamental  principle ;  and  then 
in  its  collective  form,  as  a  whole  :  we  have  examined  it  under 
these  two  points  of  view,  in  order  to  see  what  it  did  *nd  what 
it  might  have  been  expected  to  do  ;  what  has  been  its  influence 
on  the  progress  of  civilization.  These  investigations,  I  think,  ^ 
bring  us  to  this  twofold  conclusion  : —  ,     \ 

1st.  Feudalism  seems  to  have  exercised  a  great,  and,  upon\ 
the  whole,  a  salutary  influence  upon  the  intellectual  develop- P<-^-" 
ment  of  individuals.     It  gave  birth  to  elevated  ideas  and  feel-/ 
ings  in  the  mind,  to  moral  wants,  to  grand  developments  or 
character  and  passion. 

2dly.  With  regard  to  society,  it  was  incapable  of  establish- 
ing either  legal  order  or  political  guarantee.  In  the  wretched 
state  to  which  society  had  been  reduced  by  barbarism,  in 
which  it  was  incapable  of  a  more  regular  or  enlarged  form,  *  - 
the  feudal  system  seemed  indispensable  as  a  step  towards  re-  0^' 
association ;  still  this  syst3m,  in  itself  radically  vicious,  could 
neither  regulate  nor  enlarge  society.  The  only  political  right 
which  the  feudal  system  was  capable  of  exercising  in  Euro- 
pean society,  was  the  right  of  resistance  :  I  will  not  say  legal 
resistance,  for  there  can  be  no  question  of  legal  resistance  in 
a  society  so  little  advanced.  The  progress  of  society  con- 
sists pre-eminently  in  substituting,  on  one  hand,  public  au- 
thority for  private  will ;  and,  on  the  other,  legal  resistance  foi 
individual  resistance.  This  is  the  great  end,  the  chief  per 
fection,  of  social  order  ;  a  large  field  is  left  to  personal  liber- 
ty, but  when  personal  liberty  offends,  when  it  becomes  neces- 
sary to  call  it  to  account,  our  only  appeal  is  to  public  reason ; 
public  reason  is  placed  in  the  judge's  chair  to  pass  sentence 
m  the  charge  which  is  preferred  again3t  individual  liberty 


100  GENERAL    HISTORY    OP 

Such  is  the  system  of  legal  order  and  of  legal  resistance 
You  will  easily  perceive,  that  there  was  nothing  bearing  any 
resemblance  to  this  in  the  feudal  system.  The  right  of  re 
/  sistance,  which  was  maintained  and  practised  in  this  system 
(  was  the  right  of  personal  resistance ;  a  terrible  and  anti-so- 
cial right,  inasmuch  as  its  only  appeal  is  to  brute  force — U; 
war — which  is  the  destruction  of  society  itself;  aright,  how 
ever,  which  ought  never  to  be  entirely  erased  from  the  mind 
of  man,  because  by  its  abolition  he  puts  on  the  fetters  of  ser- 
vitude. The  notion  of  the  right  of  resistance  had  been  ban- 
ished from  the  Roman  community,  by  the  general  disgrace 
and  infamy  into  which  it  had  fallen,  and  it  could  not  be  re- 
generated from  its  ruins.  It  could  not,  in  my  opinion,  have 
sprung  more  naturally  from  the  principles  of  Christian  so 
ciety.  It  is  to  the  feudal  system  that  we  aie  indebted  for 
its   re-introduction  among  us.     The  glory  of  civilization  is 

rto  render  this  principle  for  ever  inactive  and  useless ;  the 
glory  of  the  feudal  system  is  its  having  constantly  professed 
and  defended  it 

Such,  if  I  am  not  widely  mistaken,  is  the  result  of  our  in- 
vestigation of  the  feudal  community,  considered  in  itself,  in 
its  general  principles,  and  independently  of  its  historical  pro- 
gress. If  we  now  turn  to  facts,  to  history,  we  shall  find  it  to 
have  fallen  out,  just  as  might  have  been  expected,  that  the  feu- 
dal system  accomplished  its  task ;  that  its  destiny  has  been 
conformable  to  its  nature.  Events  may  be  adduced  in  proof 
of  all  the  conjectures,  of  all  the  inductions,  which  I  have 
drawn  from  the  nature  and  essential  character  of  this  system. 

Take  a  glance,  for  example,  at  the  general  history  of  feu- 
dalism, from  the  tenth  to  the  thirteenth  centuries,  and  say,  is 
it  not  impossible  to  deny  that  it  exercised  a  vast  and  salutary 
influence  upon  the  progress  of  individual  man — upon  the  de- 
velopment of  his  sentiments,  his  disposition,  and  his  ideas  ? 
/Where  can  we  open  the  history  of  this  period,  without  dis- 
covering a  crowd  of  noble  sentiments,  of  splendid  achieve- 
[  ments,  of  beautiful  developments  of  humanity,  evidently  gen- 
erated in  the  bosom  of  feudal  life.  Chivalry,  which  in  reality 
bears  scarcely  the  least  resemblance  to  feudalism,  was  never- 
theless its  offspring.  /  It  was  feudalism  which  gave  birth  to 
that  romantic  thirst  and  fondness  for  all  that  is  noble,  gene- 
rous, and  faithful — for  that  sentiment  of  honor,  which  still 
taises  its  voice  in  favor  of  the  system  by  which  it  was  nursed 


CIVILIZATION     IN     MOP  '17.  1"! 

But   turn  to   another   tide.     Hero*  we"so*c   that    lie'  firsTV 
pparks  of  European  imagination,  that  the   first    attempts  of 
poetry,  of  literature,  that  the  first  intellectual   gratifications    J 
which  Europe  tasted  in  emerging  from  barbarism,  sprung  up 
under  the  protection,  under  the  wings,  of  feudalism.     It  was 
in  the  baronial  hall  that  they  were  born,  and  cherished,  and 
protected.     It  is  to  the  feudal  times  tha*.  we  trace  back  the 
earliest  literary  monuments  of  England,  France,  and  Ger 
many,  the  earliest  intellectual  enjoyments  of  modern  Europe. 

As  a  set-off  to  this,  if  we  question  history  respecting  tho\ 
influence  of  feudalism  upon  the  social  system,  its  reply  is,  \ 
though  still  in  accordance  with  our  conjectuies,  that  the  feu-  \ 
dal  system  has  everywhere  opposed  not  only  the  establish-  ' 
ment  of  general  order,  but  at  the  same  time  the  extension  of  / 
general  liberty.  Under  whatever  point  of  view  we  consider 
the  progress  of  society,  the  feudal  system  always  appears  as 
an  obstacle  in  its  way.  Hence,  from  the  earliest  existence 
of  feudalism,  the  two  powers  which  have  been  the  prime 
movers  in  the  progress  of  order  and  liberty — monarchical 
power  on  the  one  hand,  and  popular  power  on  the  other — that 
is  to  say,  the  king  and  the  people — have  both  attacked  it,  and 
struggled  against  it  continually.  What  few  attempts  were 
made  at  different  periods  to  regulate  it,  to  impart  to  it  some- 
what of  a  legal,  a  general  character — as  was  done  in  Eng- 
land, by  William  the  Conqueror  and  his  sons ;  in  France,  by 
St.  Louis ;  and  by  several  of  the  German  Emperors — all 
these  endeavors,  all  these  attempts  failed.  The  very  nature 
itself  of  feudality  is  opposed  to  order  and  legality.  In  the 
last  century,  some  writers  of  talent  attempted  to  dress  out 
feudalism  as  a  social  system  ;  they  endeavored  to  make  it  ap- 
pear a  legitimate,  well-ordered,  progressive  state  of  society, 
and  represented  it  as  a  golden  age.  Ask  them,  however, 
where  it  existed :  summon  them  to  assign  it  a  locality,  and  u 
time,  and  they  will  be  found  wanting.  It  is  a  Utopia  without 
ilate,  a  drama,  for  which  we  find,  in  the  past,  neither  theatre 
nor  actors.  The  cause  of  this  error  is  noways  difficult  to 
discover  ;  and  it  accounts  as  well  for  the  error  of  the  opposite 
class,  who  cannot  pronounce  the  name  of  feudalism  without 
coupling  to  it  an  absolute  anathema.  Both  these  parties  have 
looked  at  it,  as  the  two  knights  did  at  the  statue  of  Janus, 
only  on  one  side.  They  have  not  considered  the  two  differ- 
ent poir.ts  of  view  from  which  feudalism  may  be  surveyed 


102  hlxkral  history   or 

8  j  :•.;:*••/:•  j 

•They  do  not  distinguish,  on  one  hand,  its  influence  upon  the 
progress  of  the  individual  man,  upon  his  feelings,  his  faculties, 
his  disposition  and  passions  ;  nor,  on  the  other,  its  influence 
upon  the  social  condition.  One  party  could  not  imagine  that 
a  social  system  in  which  were  to  be  found  so  many  noble 
sentiments,  so  many  virtues,  in  which  were  seen  sprouting 
fortli  the  earliest  buds  of  literature  and  science  ;  in  which 
manners  became  not  only  more  refined,  but  attained  a  certain 
elevation  and  grandeur;  in  such  a  system  they  could  not 
imagine  that  the  evil  was  so  great  or  so  fatal  as  it  was  made 
to  appear.  The  other  party,  seeing  ,but  the  misery  which 
feudalism  inflicted  on  the  great  body  of  the  people — the  ob- 
stacles which  it  opposed  to  the  establishment  of  order  and 
liberty — would  not  believe  that  it  could  produce  noble  charac- 
ters, great  virtues,  or  any  improvement  whatsoever.  Both 
these  parties  have  misunderstood  the  twofold  principle  of  civi- 
lization :  they  have  not  been  aware  that  it  consists  of  two 
movements,  one  of  which  for  a  time  may  advance  indepen- 
dently of  the  other ;  although  after  a  lapse  of  centuries,  and 
perhaps  a  long  series  of  events,  they  must  at  last  reciprocally 
recall  and  bring  forward  each  other. 

To  conclude,  feudalism,  in  its  character  and  influence,  was 
just  what  its  nature  would  lead  us  to  expect.  Individualism, 
the  energy  of  personal  existence,  was  the  prevailing  principle 
among  the  vanquishers  of  the  Roman  world  ;  and  the  develop 
ment  of  the  individual  man,  of  his  mind,  and  faculties,  might 
above  all  be  expected  to  result  from  the  social  system,  founded 
by  them  and  for  them.  That  which  man  himself  carries  into  a 
social  system,  his  intellectual  moral  disposition  at  the  time  he 
enters  it,  has  a  powerful  influence  upon  the  situation  in  which 
he  establishes  himself — upon  all  around  him.  This  situation  in 
its  turn  reacts  upon  his  dispositions,  strengthens  and  improves 
them.  The  individual  prevailed  in  German  society ;  and  the 
influence  of  the  feudal  system,  the  offspring  of  German  socie- 
ty, displayed  itself  in  the  improvement  and  advance  of  the  in- 
dividual. We  shall  find  the  same  fact  to  recur  in  the  other 
elements  of  our  civilization :  they  all  hold  faithful  to  their 
original  principle  ;  they  have  advanced  and  pushed  the  world 
in  that  same  road  by  which  they  first  entered.  The  subject  of 
the  next  lecture — the  history  of  the  Church,  and  its  influence 
upon  European  civilization,  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  cen- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPI  103 

turv — wiii  furnish  m  with  i  tew  and  striking  example ol  this 


10  To  appreciate  the  views  taken  in  the  foregoing  lecture,  a  know- 
ledge  of  the  peculiar  institutions  and  customs  of  the  Feudal  Sys- 
tem, ami  of  the  historical  facts  connected  with  its  rise  and  pro- 
cess, is  requisite.  The  lecture  might,  within  the  same  space,  have 
been  more  full  and  instructive  in  these  respects,  with  advantage  to 
the  disquisitions  here  presented.  The  needful  information  must  be 
supplied  by  the  lecturer,  or  the  student  must  seek  it  for  himtelC 
The  second  chapter  of  Hallam's  Middle  Ages  will  perhaps  best  fur 
rush  within  a  brief  compass  all  that  is  necessary. 

The  Feudal  System,  as  a  completely  organized  institution,  can- 
not be  said  to  have  extended  much  beyond  the  limits  of  the  em- 
pire founded  by  Charlemagne,  which  it  will  be  remembered  includ- 
ed France,  Germany,  Italy,  and  part  of  Spain.  In  France  and  Ger- 
many its  working  is  best  displayed. 

The  germs  of  the  system  existed,  without  doubt,  long  before  the 
time  of  Charlemagne;  but  its  full  development  is  dated  from  the 
tenth  century.  Previous  to  this  time,  an  important  step  in  the  pro- 
gress of  the  system  had  been  taken  by  the  conversion  of  benefices 
(or  lands  granted  by  the  kngs  to  their  vassals  upon  condition  of 
military  service)  into  hereditary  fiefs.  But  the  event  which  com- 
pletely established  the  Feudal  System,  subverting  in  the  sequel  the 
royal  authority,  and  destroying  the  Carlovingian  dynasty,  was  the 
act  of  Charles  the  Bold,  who,  in  879,  made  the  governments  of  the 
counties  hereditary.  These  provinces  thus  became  great  fiefs,  the 
dukes  and  counts  rendering  homage  indeed  to  the  crown,  but  as  to 
the  rest  exercising  independent  authority,  and  controlling  all  the 
lesser  feudatories  within  their  former  jurisdiction. 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  Feudal  System  was  both  cause 
and  effect  of  the  wretched  state  of  society  during  the  times  when 
it  prevailed ;  whatever  has  been  said  of  its  benefits  must  be  taken 
vrlh  great  qualifications,  and  at  all  events  applies  almost  wholly  to 
the  feudal  proprietors ;  the  lower  classes,  the  mass  of  the  people, 
were  subject  to  every  species  of  lawless  oppression.  By  the  year 
1300,  the  system  was  substantially  overthrown,  although  a  great 
many  of  the  odious  and  oppressive  exactions  which  it  entailed 
upon  the  peasantry,  the  cultivators  of  the  soil,  were  perpetuated 
down  to  the  French  Revolution.  The  causes  of  its  decline  were 
*J»c  growth  of  the  rojal  power,  the  increase  of  commerce  -th* 
rfcje  of  the  free  cities — and  the  formation  of  a  middle  class. 


LECTURE  V. 

THE    CHURCH. 

Having  investigated  the  nature  and  influence  of  the  feudal 
sy3tem,  I  shall  take  the  Christian  Church,  from  the  fifth  to 
the  twelfth  century,  as  the  subject  of  the  present  lecture.  I 
Bay  the  Christian  Church,  because,  as  I  have  observed  once 
before,  it  is  not  about  Christianity  itself,  Christianity  as  a  re- 
ligious system,  that  I  shall  occupy  your  attention,  but  the 
church  as  an  ecclesiastical  society — the  Christian  hierarchy. 

This  society  was  almost  completely  organized  before  the 
close  of  the  fifth  century.  Not  that  it  has  not  undergone  many 
and  important  changes  since  that  period,  but  from  this  time 
the  church,  considered  as  a  corporation,  as  the  government 
of  the  Christian  world,  may  be  said  to  have  attained  a  com 
plete  and  independent  existence. 

A  single  glance  will  be  sufficient  to  convince  us,  that  there 
existed,  in  the  fifth  century,  an  immense  difference  between 
the  state  of  the  church  and  that  of  the  other  elements  of  Euro- 
pean civilization.  You  will  remember  that  I  have  pointed  out, 
/as  primary  elements  of  our  civilization,  the  municipal  system^ 
\the  feudal  system, "monarchy,  and  the  church^  The  munici- 
pal systemfm  the  fifth  century,  was  no  more  than  a  fragment 
of  the  Roman  empire,  a  shadow  without  life,  or  definite  form. 
The  feudal  system  was  still  a  chaos.  Monarchy  existed  only 
in  name.  All  the  civil  elements  of  modern  society  were 
either  in  their  decline  or  infancy.  The  church  alone  pos- 
sessed youth  and  vigor  ;  she  alone  possessed  at  the  same  time 
u  definite  form,  with  activity  and  strength  ;  she  alone  possess- 
ed at  once  movement  and  order,  energy  and  system,  that  is  to 
bay,  the  two  greatest  means  of  influence.  Is  it  not,  let  me  ask 
you,  by  mental  vigor,  by  intellectual  movement  on  one  side, 
and  by  order  and  discipline  on  the  other,  that  all  institutions 
acquire  their  power  and  influence  over  society  1  The  church, 
moreover  awakened  attention  to,  and  agitated  all  'he  great 


Z>\ 


(  ivn.i/.ATioN    in    MODEM     RJBOPI.  10b 

nuusiions  which  Interest  man  ;  she  basiad  herself  with  all  the} 
mat  problems  of  his  nature,  with  all  he  had  to  hope  or  fcaf 
ror  futurity.  /Hence  her  influenco  upon  modern  civilization \tu^M 
has  been  so  powerful — more  powerful,  perhaps,  than  its  most  I  ^^ 
violent  adversaries,  or  its  most  zealous  defenders,  have  sur>»|  ^    w 
posed./  They,  eager  to  advance  or  abuse  her,  have  only  re- 
gard 9d  the  church  in  a  contentious  point  of  view ;  and  with 
that    contracted   spirit   which   controversy   engenders,   how 
eould  they  do  her  justice,  or  grasp  the  full  scope  of  her  sway  A 
To  us,  the  church,  in  the  fifth  century,  appears  as  an  or-  \ 
ijanized  and  independent  society,  interposed  between  the  mas-    , 
ters  of  the  world,  the  sovereigns,  the  possessors  of  temporal    I 
power,  and  the  people,  serving  as  a  connecting  link  between  y 
them,  and  exercising  its  influence  over  all. 


To  know  and  completely  understand  its  agency,  then,  we 
must  consider  it  from  three  different  points  of  view  :  we  must 
consider  it  first _in  jttself — we  must  see  what  it  really  was, 
what  was  its  internal  constitution,  what  the  principles  which 
there  Jbore  sway,  what  its  nature.  We  must  next  consider  it 
in  its  relatiojuj^wjtljJeJBpomljiilfirs  —kings,  lords,  and  others ; 
aluiTlmaliynnits  relations  with  the  people.  And  when  by 
this  threefold  investigation  we  have  formed  a  complete  picture 
of  the  church,  of  its  principles,  its  situation,  and  the  influence 
which  it  exercised,  we  will  verify  this  picture  by  history  /  wo 
will  see  whether  facts,  whether  what  we  properly  call  events, 
from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  cen*ury,  agree  with  the  conclu- 
sions which  our  threefold  examination  of  the  church,  of  its 
own  nature,  of  its  relations  with  the  masters  of  the  wrorld,  and 
with  the  people,  had  previously  led  us  to  come  to  respecting  it. 


Let  us  first  consider  the  church  in  itself,  its  internal  condi- 
tion, its  own  nature. 

The  first,  and  perhaps  the  most  important  fact  that  demands 
r.ur  attention  here,  is  its  existence  ;  the  existence  of  a  gov- 
ernment of  religion,  of  a  priesthood,  of  an  ecclesiastical  cor- 
poration. 

In  the  opinion  of  many  enlightened  persons,  the  very  notion 
if  a  religious  corporation,  of  a  priesthood,  of  a  government  of 
religion,  is  absurd.  They  believe  that  a  religion,  whose  ob- 
'ect  is  the  establishment  of  a  clerical  body,  of  a  priesthood 


106  GENERAL    HISTORi'     OF 

egally  constituted  in  short,  of  a  government  of  religion,  must 
exercise,  upon  the  whole,  an  influence  more  dangerous  than 
useful.  In  their  opinion  religion  is  a  matter  purely  individual 
betwixt  man  and  God  ;  and  that  whenever  religion  loses  this 
character,  whenever  an  exterior  authority  interferes  between 
the  individual  and  the  object  of  his  religious  belief,  that  is 
between  him  and  God,  religion  is  corrupted,  and  society  in 
danger. 

It  will  not  do  to  pass  by  this  question  without  taking  a 
^f        deeper  view  of  it.     In  order  to  know  what  has  been  the  influ* 
^       ence  of  the  Christian  Church,  we  must  know  what  ought  to 
^^    be,  from  the  nature  of  the  institution  itself,  the  influence  of  8 
T^l        church,  the  influence  of  a  priesthood.  {  To  judge  of  this  influ- 
ence we  must  inquire  more  especially  whether  religion  is,  in 
fact,  purely  individual ;  whether  it  excites  and  gives  birth  to 
nothing  beyond  this  intimate  relation  between  each  individual 
and  God  I  or  whether  it  does  not,  in  fact,  necessarily  become 
a  source  of  new  relations  between  man  and  man,  and  so  ne- 
cessarily lead  to  the  formation  of  a  religious  society,  and  from 
that  to  a  government  of  this  society. 

If  we  reduce  religion  to  what  is  properly  called  religious 
feeling — to  that  feeling  which,  though  very  real,  is  somewhat 
vague,  somewhat  uncertain  in  its  object,  and  which  we  can 
scarcely  characterize  but  by  naming  it — to  that  feeling  which 
addresses  itself  at  one  time  to  exterior  nature,  at  another  to 
the  inmost  recesses  of  the  soul ;  to-day  to  the  imagination, 
to-morrow  to  the  mysteries  of  the  future  ;  which  wanders 
everywhere,  and  settles  nowhere  ;  which,  in  a  word,  exhausts 
both  the  world  of  matter  and  of  fancy  in  searc^of  a  resting- 
place,  and  yet  finds  none — if  we  reduce  religion  to  this  feel- 
ing ;  then,  it  would  seem,  it  may  remain  purely  individual 
Such  a  feeling  may  give  rise  to  a  passing  association  ;  it  may, 
it  will  indeed,  find  a  pleasure  in  sympathy ;  it  will  feed  upon 
it,  it  will  be  strengthened  by  it ;  but  its  fluctuating  and  doubt- 
ful character  will  prevent  its  becoming  the  principle  of  per- 
manent and  extensive  association  ;  will  present  it  from  ac- 
commodating itself  to  any  system  of  precepts,  of  discipline, 
of  forms  ;  will  prevent  it,  in  a  word,  from  giving  birth  to  a 
society,  to  a  religious  government. 

But  either  I  have  strangely  deceived  myself,  or  this  reli- 
gious feeling  does  not  comprehend  the  whole  religious  nature 
){  man.  Religion,  in  m3r  opinion,  is  quite  another  thincr,  and 
'nfir.itely  more  comprehensive  than  this. 


■ 


CIVILIZATION     IN     KOftlfiM     KJ'KOPB.  107 

Joined  to  the  destinies  and  nature  of  man,  there  a:e  a  num-X^r 
oer  of  problems  whoso  solution  we  cannot  work  out  in  the 
present  life  ;  these,  though  connected  with  an  order  of  thingl 
strange  and  foreign  to  the  world  around  us,  and  apparently  be- 
yond the  reach  of  human  faculties,  do  not  the  less  invincibly 
torment  the  soul  of  man,  part  of  whose  nature  it  seems  to  b*,  ^«r4* 
anxiously  to  desire  and  struggle  for  the  clearing  up  of  the 
mystery  in  which  they  are  involved.  The  solution  of  these 
problems, — the  creeds  and  dogmas  which  contain  it,  or  at  least 
are  supposed  to  contain  it — such  is  the  first  object,  the  first 
source,  of  religion. 

Another  road  brings  us  to  the  same  point.  To  those  among 
us  who  have  made  some  progress  in  the  study  of  moral  phi- 
losophy, it  is  now,  I  presume,  become  sufficiently  evident, 
that  morality  may  exist  independently  of  religious  ideas  ;  that 
the  distinction  between  moral  good  and  moral  evil,  the  obliga- 
tion to  avoid  evil  and  to  cleave  to  that  which  is  good,  are  Jaws 
as  much  acknowledged  by  man,  in  his  proper  nature,  as  the 
laws  of  logic ;  and  which  spring  as  much  from  a  principle 
within  him,  as  in  his  actual  life  they  find  their  application. 
But  granting  these  truths  to  be  proved,  yielding  up  to  morality  .-i^X**-* 
its  independence,  a  question  naturally  arises  in  the  human  yc 
mind :  whence  cometh  morality,  whither  doth  it  lead  1  This 
obligation  to  do  good,  which  exists  of  itself,  is  it  a  fact  stand- 
ing by  itself,  without  author,  without  aim  1  Doth  it  not  con- 
ceal, or  rather  doth  it  not  reveal  to  man,  an  origin,  a  destiny, 
reaching  beftmd  this  world  ?  By  this  question,  which  rises 
spoutaneousb^and  inevitably,  morality,  in  its  turn,  leads  man 
to  the  porch  oi  religion,  and  opens  to  him  a  sphere  from  which 
he  has  not  borrowed  it. 

Thus  on  one  side  the  problems  of  our  nature,  on  the  other  \ 
the  necessity  of  seeking  a  sanction,  an  origin,  an  aim,  for  1 
morality,  open  to  us  fruitful  and  certain  sources  of  religion.  I 
Thus  it  presents  itself  before  us  under  many  other  aspects  i 
besides  that  of  a  simple  feeling  such  as  I  have  described.    It 
presents  itself  as  an  assemblage  : 

First,  of  doctrines  called  into  existence  by  the  problerae  ] 
which  man  finds  in  himself. 

Secondly,  of  precepts  which  correspond  with  these  doc ) 
rrines,  and  g:.ve  to  natural  morality  a  signification  and  sanciioo/ 


108  GENERA!     HISTORV    OF 


& 


Thirdly,  and  lastly,  of  promises  which  address  themeclvt* 
to  the  hopes  of  humanity  respecting  futurity. 

This  is  truly  what  constitutes  religion.  This  is  really  what 
it  is  at  bottom,  and  not  a  mere  form  of  sensibility,  a  sally  of 
the  imagination,  a  species  of  poetry. 


Religion  thus  brought  back  to  its  true  element,  to  its  es- 
sence, no  longer  appears  as  an  affair  purely  individual,  but  as 
a  powerful  and  fruitful  principle  of  association.  Would  you 
regard  it  as  a  system  of  opinions,  of  dogmas  ?  The  answer 
is,  truth  belongs  to  no  one  ;  it  is  universal,  absolute  ;  all  men 
are-  prone  to  seek  it,  to  profess  it  in  common.  Would  you 
rest  upon  the  precepts  which  are  associated  with  the  doc- 
trines ?  The  reply  is,  law  obligatory  upon  one  is  obligatory 
upon  all — man  is  bound  to  promulgate  it,  to  bring  all  under  its 
authority.  It  is  the  same  with  respect  to  the  promises  which 
religion  makes  as  the  rewards  of  obedience  to  its  faith  and  its 
precepts ;  it  is  necessary  they  should  be  spread,  and  that 
these  fruits  of  religion  should  be  offered  to  all.  From  the 
essential  elements  of  religion  then  is  seen  to  spring  up  a  re- 
ligious society  ;  and  it  springs  from  them  so  infallibly,  that  the 
word  which  expresses  the  social  feeling  with  the  greatest 
energy,  which  expresses  our  invincible  desire  to  propagate 
ideas,  to  extend  society,  is  proseiytism — a  term  particularly 
applied  to  religious  creeds,  to  which  it  seems  almost  exclu- 
sively consecrated. 

/A  religious  society  once  formed, — when  a  certain  numbei 
of  men  are  joined  together  by  the  same  religious  opinions  and 
belief,  yield  obedience  to  the  same  law  of  religious  precepts, 
I    and  are  inspired  with  the  same  religious  hopes,  they  need  a 
'  ,  government.     No  society  can  exist  a  week,  no,  not  even  an 
(.  hour,  without  a  government.     At  the  very  instant  in  which  a 
society  is  formed,  by  the  very  act  of  its  formation  it  calls 
forth  a  government,  which  proclaims  the  common  truth  that 
holds  them  together,  which  promulgates  and  maintains  the 
precepts  that  this  truth  may  be  expected  to  bring  forth.  That 
a  religious  society,  like  all  others,  requires  a  controlling  pow- 
er, a  government,  is  implied  in  the  very  fact  that  a  society 
exists. 
/     And  not  only  is  a  government  necessary,  but  it  naturally 
(     irises  of  itself.     I  cannot   spare   much  time  to  show  how 
governments  rise  and  become  established  in  society  in  gene- 


IIYII.IZATION     IN     MODKRN     KUftOPl. 

ml.     I  shall  only  remark,  that  when  matters  arc  left  to  take's 
their  natural  course,  when  no  exterior  force  is  applied  to  drive 
mem  from  their  usual  route,  power  will  fall  into  the  hands  of 
the  most  capable,  of  the  most  worthy,  into  the  hands  of  those  ' 
who  will  lead  society  on  its  way.     Are  there  thoughts  of  R 
military  expedition  1  the  bravest  will  have  the  command.     Ih 
society  anxious  about  some  discovery,  some  learned  enter- 
prise ?  the  most  skilful  will  bo  sought  for.     The  same  will 
take  place  in  all  other  matters.     Let  but  the  common  order  of 
tilings  be  observed,  let  the  natural  ir  equality  of  mer.  freely 
display  itself,  and  each  will  find  the  station  that  he  is  best  fit- 
ted to  fill.  So  as  regards  religion,  men  will  be  found  no  more 
equal  in  talents,  in  abilities,  and  in  power,  than  they  are  in 
other  matters :  this  man  has  a  more  striking  method  than 
others  in  proclaiming  the  doctrines  of  religion  and  making 
converts  ;  another  has  more  power  in  enforcing  religious  pre- 
cepts ;  a  third  may  excel  in  exciting  religious  hopes  and  emo- 
tions, and  keeping  the  soul  in  a  devout  and  holy  frame.    The 
same  inequality  of  faculties  and  of  influence,  which  gives  rise 
lo  power  in  civil  society,  will  be  found  to  exist  in  religious 
society.    Missionaries,  like  generals,  go  forth  to  conquer.    So^} 
that  while,  on  the  one  hand,  religious  government  naturally 
flows  from  the  nature  of  religious  society,  it  as  naturally  de 
velops  itself,  on  the  other,  by  the  simple  effect  of  human 
faculties,  and  their  unequal  distribution. 

Thus  the  moment  that  religion  takes  possession  of  a  maiT\ 
a  religious  society  begins  to  be  formed  ;  and  the  moment  thifc   j  y* 
religious  society  appears  it  gives  birth  to  a  government. 

Ik  grave  objection,  however,  here  presents  itself:  in  this 
case  there  is  nothing  to  command,  nothing  to  impose ;  nt 
kind  of  force  can  here  be  legitimate.  There  is  no  place  for 
government,  because  here  the  most  perfect  liberty  ought  to 
prevail. 

Be  it  so.  But  is  it  not  forming  a  gross  and  degrading  idea 
of  government  to  suppose  that  it  resides  only,  to  suppose  that 
it  resides  chiefly,  in  the  force  which  it  exercises  to  make 
itself  obeyed,  in  its  coercive  element  ? 

Let  us  quit  religion  for  a  moment,  and  turn  to  civil  govern- 
ments. '1  race  with  me,  1  beseech  you,  the  simple  march  of 
circumstances.  Society  exists.  Something  is  to  be  done,  no 
matter  what,  in  its  name  and  for  its  interest ;  a  /aw  has  to  be 


HO  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

executed,  some  measure  to  be  adopted,  a  judgment  tc  be  pro 
nounced.  Now,  certainly,  there  is  a  proper  method  of  sup- 
plying these  social  wants  ;  there  is  a  proper  law  to  make,  a 
proper  measure  to  aaopt,  a  proper  judgment  to  pronounce. 
Whatever  may  be  the  matter  in  hand,  whatever  may  be  the 
interest  in  question,  there  is,  upon  every  occasion,  a  truth 
which  must  be  discovered,  and  which  ought  to  decide  the 
matter,  and  govern  the  conduct  to  be  adopted. 
>  The  first  business  of  government  is  to  seek  this  truth,  is  to 

/discover  what  is  just,  reasonable,  and   suitable  to    society. 

I  When  this  is  found,  it  is  proclaimed :  the  next  business  is  to 
introduce  it  to  the  public  mind  ;  to  get  it  approved  by  the  men 
upon  whom  it  is  to  act ;  to  persuade  them  that  it  is  reasor  able. 
In  all  this  is  there  anything  coercive  %  Not  at  all.  Suppose  now 
chat  the  truth  which  ought  to  decide  upon  the  affair,  no  matter 
what ;  suppose,  I  say,  that  the  truth  being  found  and  proclaim- 
ed, all  understandings  should  be  at  once  convinced ;  all  wills 
at  once  determined  ;  that  all  should  acknowledge  that  the 
government  was  right,  and  obey  it  spontaneously.  There  is 
nothing  yet  of  compulsion,  no  occasion  for  the  employment 

/  of  force.  Does  it  follow  then  that  a  government  does  not  ex- 
ist ?  Is  there  nothing  of  government  in  all  this  1  To  be 
sure  theie  is,  and  it  has  accomplished  its  task.  Compulsion 
'appears  not  till  the  resistance  of  individuals  calls  for  it — till 
the  idea,  the  decision  which  authority  has  adopted,  fails  to 
obtain  the  approbation  or  the  voluntary  submission  of  all. 
[Then  government  employs  force  to  make  itself  obeyed.  This 
is  a  necessary  consequence  of  human  imperfection ;  an  imper- 
fection which  resides  as  well  in  power  as  in  society.  There 
is  no  way  of  entirely  avoiding  this  ;  civil  governments  will 
always  be  obliged  to  have  recourse,  to  a  certain  degree,  to 
compulsion.  Still  it  is  evident  they  are  not  made  up  of  com- 
pulsion, because,  whenever  they  can,  they  are  glad  to  do 
without  it,  to  the  great  blessing  of  all ;  and  their  highest  point 
J  of  perfection  is  to  be  able  to  discard  it,  and  to  trust  to  means 
purely  moral,  to  their  influence  upon  the  understanding :  so 
that,  in  proportion  as  government  can  dispense  with  compul- 
sion and  force,  tne  more  faithful  it  is  to  its  true  nature,  and 
the  better  it  fulfils  the  purpose  for  which  it  is  sent.  This  is 
no4:  to  shrink,  this  is  not  to  give  way,  as  people  commonly  cry 
3ut ;  it  is  merely  acting  in  a  different  manner,  in  a  manner 
Tiuch  more  general  and  powerful.  Those  governments  which 
employ  the  most  compulsion  perforin  much  less  than  thoso 


v  I.  I)  I/.A  HON     IN    MODERN      EUR')  111 

which  scarcely  over  have  recourse  to  it.  Government,  b)  ad 
dressing  itself  to  the  understanding,  by  engaging  the  free-wil 
of  its  subjects,  by  acting  by  means  purely  intellectual,  in 
stead  of  contracting,  expands  and  elevates  itself ;  it  is  then 
that  it  accomplishes  most,  and  attains  to  the  grandest  objects 
On  the  contrary,  it  is  when  government  is  obliged  to  be  con- 
stantly employing  its  physical  arm  that  it  becomes  weak  and  j 
:t?straiaed — ths,t  it  does  little,  and  does  that  little  badly. 

The  essence  of  government  then  by  no  means  resides  :r  A 
compulsion,  in  the  exercise  of  brute  force  ;  it  consists  more 
especially  of  a  system  of  means  and  powers,  conceived  for 
the  purpose  of  discovering  upon  all  occasions  what  is  best  to 
be  done ;  for  the  purpose  of  discovering  the  truth  which  by 
right  ought  to  govern  society,  for  the  purpose  of  persuading 
all  men  to  acknowledge  this  truth,  to  adopt  and  respect  it 
willingly  and  freely.  Thus  I  think  I  have  shown  that  tho 
necessity  for,  and  the  existence  of  a  government,  are  very  con- 
ceivable, even  though  there  should  be  no  room  for  compul- 
sion, even  though  it  should  be  absolutely  forbidden. 

This  is  exactly  the  case  in  the  government  of  religious  so-^) 
ciety.  There  is  no  doubt  but  compulsion  is  here  strictly  for- 
bidden ;  there  can  be  no  doubt,  as  its  only  territory  is  the  con- 
science of  man,  but  that  every  species  of  force  must  be  ille  • 
gal,  whatever  may  be  the  end  designed.  But  government 
does  not  exist  the  less  on  this  account.  It  still  has  to  perform 
all  the  duties  which  we  have  just  now  enumerated.  It  is  in- 
cumbent upon  it  to  seek  out  the  religious  doctrines  which  re- 
solve the  problems  of  human  destiny  ;  or,  if  a  general  system 
of  faith  beforehand  exists,  in  which  these  problems  are  al- 
ready resolved,  it  will  be  its  duty  to  discover  and  set  forth  its 
consequences  in  each  particular  case.  It  will  be  its  duty  to 
promulgate  and  maintain  the  precepts  which  correspond  to  its 
doctrines.  It  will  be  its  duty  to  preach  them,  to  teach  them, 
and,  if  society  wanders  from  them,  to  bring  it  back  again  to 
the  right  path.  No  compulsion  ;  but  the  investigation,  the 
preaching,  the  teaching  of  religious  truths  ;  the  administering 
to  religious  wants  ;  admonishing  ;  censuring;  this  is  the  task 
wliich  religious  government  has  to  perform.  Suppress  all 
force  and  coercion  as  much  as  you  desire,  still  you  will  see 
-ill  the  essential  questions  connected  with  the  organization  of 
i  noi'ernment  present  themselves  before  you,  and  dtmand  B 


112  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

solution  The  question,  for  example,  whether  a  body  of  lt- 
ligious  magistrates  is  necessary,  or  whether  it  is  possibla  to 
trust  to  the  religious  inspiration  of  individuals  ?  This  ques- 
tion, which  is  a  subject  of  debate  between  most  religious  so- 
cieties and  that  of  the  Quakers,  will  always  exist,  it  must  al- 
ways remain  a  matter  of  discussion.  Again,  granting  a  bed) 
of  religious  magistrates  to  be  necessary,  the  question  arisen 
whether  a  system  of  equality  is  to  be  preferred,  or  an  hierarch- 
al  constitution — a  graduated  series  of  powers  ?  This  ques- 
tion will  not  cease  because  you  take  from  the  ecclesiastical 
magistrates,  whatever  they  may  be,  all  means  of  compulsion 
Instead  then  of  dissolving  religious  society  in  order  to  have 
the  right  to  destroy  religious  government,  it  must  be  acknow- 
ledged that  religious  society  forms  itself  naturally,  that  re- 
ligious government  flows  no  less  naturally  from  religious  so- 
ciety, and  that  the  problem  to  be  solved  is  on  what  conditions 
this  government  ought  to  exist,  on  what  it  is  based,  what  are 
its  principles,  what  the  conditions  of  its  legitimacy  ?  This  is 
the  investigation  which  the  existence  of  religious  government 
as  of  all  others,  compels  us  to  undertake. 

f      The  conditions  of  legitimacy  are  the  same  in  the  govern- 
(^ment  of  a  religious  society  as  in  all  others.     They  may  be 
qimv    /reduced  to  two :  the  first  is,  that  authority  should  be  placed 
/  and  constantly  remain,  as  effectually  at  least  as  the  imperfec- 
tion of  all  human  affairs  will  permit,  in  the  hands  of  the  best, 
I  the  most  capable  ;  so  that  the  legitimate  superiority,  which 
/  lies  scattered  in  various  parts  of  society,  may  be  thereby 
:   drawn  out,  collected,  and  delegated  to  discover  the  social  law 
-  M— to  exercise  its  authority.    The  second  is,  that  the  authority 
^/thus  legitimately  constituted  should   respect   the   legitimate 
\  liberties  of  those  over  whom  it  is  called  to  govern.     A  good 
system  for  the  formation  and  organization  of  authority,  a  good 
eystem  of  securities  for  liberty,  are  the  two  conditions  in  which 
the  goodness  of  government  in  general  resides,  whether  civil 
or  religious.     And  it  is  by  this  standard  that  all  governments 
should  be  judged. 

/^Instead,  then,  of  reproaching  the  Church,  the  government 
of  the  Christian  world,  with  its  existence,  let  us  examine  how 
t  was  constituted,  and  see  whether  its  principles  correspond 
svith  the  two  essential  conditions  of  all  good  government. 


FILI1AT10M    IN    MODr.UN    BUROPI  11.1 

lAit  us  examine  the  Church  in  this  twofold  jx>oit  of  view. 

In  the  first  place,  with  regard  to  the  formation  and  trans- 
mission of  authority  in  the  Church,  there  is  a  word,  which  ha; 
often  been  made  use  of,  which  I  wish  to  get  rid  of  altogether 
I  mean  the  word  caste.  This  word  has  been  too  frequently  ap- 
plied to  the  Christian  clergy,  but  its  application  to  that  body 
is  both  improper  and  unjust.  The  idea  of  hereditary  right  ie 
inherent  to  the  idea  of  caste.  In  every  part  of  the  world,  in 
tvery  country  in  which  the  system  of  caste  has  prevailed — W 
Egypt,  in  India — from  the  earliest  time  to  the  present  day — 
you  will  find  that  castes  have  been  everywhere  essentially 
hereditary :  they  are,  in  fact,  the  transmission  of .  the  same 
rank  and  condition,  of  the  same  power,  from  father  to  son. 
Now  where  there  is  no  inheritance  there  is  no  caste,  but  a 
corporation.  The  esprit  de  corps,  or  that  certain  degree  of 
love  and  interest  which  every  individual  of  an  order  feels  to 
wards  it  as  a  whole,  as  well  as  towards  all  its  members,  has 
its  inconveniences,  but  differs  very  essentially  from  the  spirit 
of  caste.  The  celibacy  of  the  clergy  of  itself  renders  the  ap- 
plication of  this  term  to  the  Christian  Church  altogether  im- 
proper. 

The  important  consequences  of  this  distinction  cannot  havc"\ 
escaped  you.     To  the  system  of  castes,  to  the  circumstance   \ 
of  inheritance,  certain  peculiar  privileges  are  necessarily  at- 
tached ;  the  very  definition  of  caste  implies  this.     Where  the     , 
same  functions,  the  same  powers  become  hereditary  in  th( 
same  families,  it  is  evident  that  they  possess  peculiar  privi 
leges,  which  none  can  acquire  independently  of  birth.     This 
is  indeed  exactly  what  has  taken  place  wherever  the  religious 
government  has  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a  caste ;  it  has  be- 
come a  matter  of  privilege  ;  all  were  shut  out  from  it  but  thosev 
who  belonged  to  the  families  of  the  caste.     Now  nothing  like) 
this  is  to  be  found  in  the  Christian  Church.     Not  only  is  the 
Church  entirely  free  from  this  fault,  but  she  has  constantly 
maintained  the  principle,  that  all  men,  whatever  their  origin 
are  equally  privileged  to  enter  her  ranks,  to  fill  her  highest 
offices,  to  enjoy  her  proudest  dignities.     The  ecclesiastical 
L*areor,  particularly  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  century,  was 
open  to  all.     The  church  was  recruited  from  all  ranks  of  so- 
ciety, from  the  lower  as  well  as  the  higher,  indeed,  most  fre- 
quently from  the  lower.     When  all  around  her  fell  under  the 
tyranny  of  privilege,  she  alone  maintained  the  principle  of 
•'quality,  cf  competition  and  emulation  ;  she  alone  called  the 


114  GINERAL    HIii'ORY    OK 

superior  of  all  classes  to  the  possession  of  power.  This  U 
;  the  first  great  consequence  which  naturally  flowed  from  the 
I    fact  that  the  Church  was  a  corporation  and  not  a  caste. 

I  will  show  you  a  second.  It  is  the  inherent  nature  of  al! 
castes  to  possess  a  degree  of  immobility.  This  assertion  re- 
'  (Squires  no  proof.  Turn  over  the  pages  of  history,  and  you  will 
find  that  wherever  the  tyranny  of  castes  has  predominated, 
society,  whether  religious  or  political,  has  universally  become 
sluggish  and  torpid.  A  dread  of  improvement  was  certainly 
introduced  at  a  certain  epoch,  and  up  to  a  certain  point,  into 
the  Christian  Church.  But  whatever  regret  this  may  cost  us. 
it  cannot  be  said  that  this  feeling  ever  generally  prevailed. 
It  cannot  be  said  that  the  Christian  Church  ever  remained  in- 
active and  stationary.  For  along  course  of  centuries  she  was 
always  in  motion  ;  at  one  time  pushed  forward  by  her  oppo- 
nents without,  at  others  driven  on  by  an  inward  impulse — by 
the  want  of  reform,  or  of  interior  development.  The  church, 
indeed,  taken  as  a  whole,  has  been  constantly  changing — 
constantly  advancing — her  history  is  diversified  and  progres- 
sive. Can  it  be  doubted  that  she  was  indebted  for  this  to  the 
admission  of  all  classes  to  the  priestly  offices,  to  the  continual 
filling  up  of  her  ranks,  upon  a  principle  of  equality,  by  which 
a  stream  of  young  and  vigorous  blood  was  ever  flowing  into 
her  veins,  keeping  her  unceasingly  active  and  stirring,  and 
defending  her  from  the  reproach  of  apathy  and  immobility 
which  might  otherwise  have  triumphed  over  her ? 

But  how  did  the  Church,  in  admitting  all  classes  to  power 
satisfy  herself  that  they  had  the  right  to  be  so  admitted  ?  How 
did  she  discover  and  proceed  in  taking  from  the  bosom  of  so- 
ciety, the  legitimate  superiorities  who  should  have  a  share  in 
her  government  %  In  the  church  two  principles  were  in  full 
vigor :  first,  the  election  of  the  inferior  by  the  superior,  which, 
in  fact,  was  nothing  more  thai  choice  or  nomination  ;  secondly ', 
the  election  of  the  superior  by  the  subordinates,  or  election 
properly  so  called,  and  such  as  we  conceive  to  be  election  in 
the  present  day. 

'  The  ordination  of  priests,  for  example,  the  power  of  raising 
a  man  to  the  priestly  office,  rested  solely  with  the  superior 
Be  alone  made  choice  of  the  candidate  for  holy  orders.  The 
case  was  the  same  in  the  collation  to  certain  ecclesiastical 
benefices,  such  as  those  attached  to  feudal  grants,  and  3ome 
others  ;  it  was  the  superior  whether  king,  pope,  or  lord,  who 


.  Il.I/.ATION    IN    MODERN     IPftOPI  []£ 

nominated  to  the  benefice.  In  other  cases  the  ».iuo  principle 
)f  election  prevailed.  The  bishops  had  been,  for  a  long  time, 
and  were  still,  often,  in  the  period  under  consideration,  elect- 
ed by  the  inferior  clergy  ;  even  the  people  sometimes  took 
part  in  them.  In  monasteries  the  abbot  was  elected  by  the 
monks  At  Rome,  the  pope  was  elected  by  the  college  of 
cardinals  ;  and,  at  an  earlier  date,  even  all  the  Roman  clergy 
had  a  voice  in  his  election.  You  may  hero  clearly  observe, 
then,  the  two  principles,  the  choice  of  the  inferior  by  the  su- 
perior, and  the  election  of  the  superior  by  the  subordinates  ; 
which  were  admitted  and  acted  upon  in  the  Church,  particu- 
larly at  the  period  which  now  engages  our  attention.  It  was 
by  one  of^these  two  means  that  men  were  appointed  to  the 
various  offices  in  the  Church,  or  obtained  any  portion  of  ec- 
clesiastical authority. 

These  two  principles  were  not  only  in  operation  at  the 
same  time,  but  being  altogether  opposite  in  their  nature,  u 
constant  struggle  prevailed  between  them.  After  a  strife  foi\ 
centuries,  after  many  vicissitudes,  the  nomination  of  the  infe-\ 
rior  by  the  superior  gained  the  day  in  the  Christian  Church.) 
Yet,  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  century,  the  opposite  prin- 
ciple, the  election  of  the  superior  by  the  subordinates,  con- 
tinued generally  to  prevail. 

We  must  not  be  astonished  at  the  co-existence  of  these  two 
opposite  principles.  If  we  look  at  society  in  general,  at  the 
common  course  of  affairs,  at  the  manner  in  which  authority  is 
there  transmitted,  we  shall  find  that  this  transmission  is  some- 
times effected  by  one  of  these  modes,  and  sometimes  the 
other.  The  Church  did  not  invent  them,  she  found  them  in 
the  providential  government  of  human  things,  and  borroweaX 
them  from  it.  There  is  somewhat  of  truth,  of  utility,  in  both.  ) 
Their  combination  would  often  prove  the  best  mode  of  dis- 
covering legitimate  power.  It  is  a  great  misfortune,  in  my  \ 
opinion,  that  only  one  of  them,  the  choice  of  the  inferior  by 
the  superior,  should  have  been  victorious  in  the  Chureh.  The 
second,  however,  was  never  entirely  banished,  but  under  va- 
rious names,  with  more  or  less  success,  has  re-appeared  in 
every  epoch,  with  at  least  sufficient  force  to  protest  against, 
and  interrupt,  prescription.11 

n  The  distinction  between  the  power  of  conferring  the  authority 
to  exercise  the  spiritua.  functions  of  an  ecclesiastical  office,  and 
the  right  of  designating  the  person  upon  whom  the  authority  shell 


116 


GENERAL    HISTORY     OK 


The  Christian  Church,  at  the  period  of  which  we  arc 
speaking,  derived  an  immense  force  from  its  respect  foi 
equality  and  the  various  kinds  of  legitimate  superiority.  It 
•vas  the  most  popular  society  of  the  time — the  most  accessible  5 
it  alone  opened  its  arms  to  all  the  talents,  to  all  the  ambitious- 
ly noble  of  our  race.  To  this,  above  all,  it  owed  its  great 
ness,  at  least  certainly  much  more  than  to  its  riches,  and  the 
illegitimate  means  which  it  but  too  often  employed. 

/  With  regard  to  the  second  condition  of  a  good  government, 
/  namely,  a  respect  for  liberty,  that  of  the  Church  leaves  much 
(^_to  be  desired. 

Two  bad   principles   here    met   together.     One    avowed, 

forming  part  and  parcel,  as  it  were,  of  the  doctrines  of  the 

Church  ;  the  other,  in  no  way  a  legitimate  consequence  of  her 

doctrines,  was  introduced  into  her  bosom  by  human  weakness. 

p)    £"*      The  first  was  a  denial  of  the  rights  of  individual  reason — 

4,<cu£.      tne  clalm  °f  transmitting  points  of  faith  from  the  highest  au- 

ItsO^?-'  thority,  downwards,  throughout  the  whole  religious   body, 

without  allowing  to  any  one  the  right  of  examining  them  for 

'  himself.  But  it  was  more  easy  to  lay  this  down  as  a  principle 

' '     man  to  carry  it  out  in  practice  ;  and  the  reason  is  obvious,  for 

a  conviction  cannot  enter  into  the  human  mind  unless  the  hu 

man  mind  first  opens  the  door  to  it ;  it  cannot  enter  by  force. 

In  whatever  way  it  may  present  itself,  whatever  name  it  may 

invoke,  reason  looks  to  it,  and  if  it  forces  an  entrance,  it  is 

because  reason  is  satisfied.     Thus  individual  reason  has  al 

ways  continued  to  exist,  and  under  whatever  name  it  may 

be  conferred  for  any  particular  place,  should  be  borne  in  mind. 
The  former,  by  the  established  constitution  of  the  Church  and  by 
universal  practice,  always  belonged  exclusively  to  the  bishops: 
they  alone  ordained  the  inferior  clergy;  they  alone  consecrated  the 
bishops.  In  regard  to  the  latter  the  practice  varied :  sometimes, 
he  person  designated  was  elected  by  the  clergy  and  people, 
which  was  the  primitive  mode ,  sometimes  by  the  clergy ;  some- 
times by  the  temporal  sovereign.  But  in  no  case  did  the  people  01 
the  prince  imagine  themselves  competent  to  consecrate,  to  confei 
upon  the  person  they  had  selected  for  bishop,  the  spiritual  powers 
jertainingto  the  functions  of  the  see  or  benefice.  This  was  always 
referred  to  the  bishops,  witn  whom  it  rested  to  confer  or  withhold 
those  powers,  without  which  the  designation  by  people  or  prince 
was  of  no  effect.  This  remark,  of  course,  applies  only  to  the  sa- 
bred or  spiritual  orders ;  the  authority  of  priors,  abbots,  etc.  V/as 
lerived  from  their  election. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    KOOSRN    IOROP1  117 

Lavo  been  disguised,  lias  always  considered  mid  reflected 
upon  the  ideas  which  have  been  attempted  to  be  forced  upor 
it.  Still,  however,  it  must  be  admitted  but  as  too  true,  that 
reason  often  becomes  impaired ;  that  she  loses  her  power,  be 
uomei  mutilated  and  contracted — that  she  may  be  brought  not 
only  to  make  a  sorry  use  of  her  faculties,  but  to  make  a  more 
limited  use  of  them  than  she  ought  to  do.  So  far  indeed  the 
Uid  principle  which  crept  into  the  Church  took  effect,  but 
with  regard  to  the  practical  and  complete  operation  of  thin 
principle,  it  never  took  place — it  was  impossible  it  ever  should. 

The  second  vicious  principle  was  the  right  of  compulsion^ 
assumed  by  the  Romish  church ;  a  right,  however,  contrary  ( 
to  the  very  nature  and  spirit  of  religious  society,  to  the  origin/'"4 
of  the  Church  itself,  and  to  its  primitive  maxims.     A  righV"***/**** 
too,  disputed  by  some  of  the  most  illustrious  fathers  of  the 
Church — by  St.  Ambrose,  St.  Hilary,  St.  Martin — but  which, 
nevertheless,  prevailed  and  became  an  important  feature  in  its 
history.     The  right  it  assumed  of  forcing  belief,  if  these  twc 
wonls  can  stand  together,  or  of  punishing  faith  physically,  of 
persecuting  heresy,  that  is  to  say,  a  contempt  for  the  legiti- 
mate liberty  of  human  thought,  was  an  error  which  found  its 
way  into  the  Romish  church  before  the  beginning  of  the  fifth 
century,  and  has  in  the  end  cost  her  very  dear. 

If  then  we  consider  the  state  of  the  Church  witli  regard  to 
the  liberty  of  its  members,  we  must  confess  that  its  principles 
in  this  respect  were  less  legitimate,  less  salutary,  than  those    I 
which  presided  at  the  rise  and   formation  of  ecclesiastical 
power.     It  must  not,  however,  be  supposed,  that  a  bad  prin-"\ 
ciple  radically  vitiates  an  institution ;  nor  even  that  it  does  it-' 
all  the  mischief  of  which  it  is  pregnant.     Nothing  tor.ureaT} 
history  more  than  logic.     No  sooner  does  the  human  mind 
seize  upon  an  idea,  than  it  draws  from  it  all  its  possible  con- 
sequences ;  makes  it  produce,  in  imagination,  all  that  it  would 
in  reality  be  capable  of  producing,  and  then  figures  it  down  in 
history  with  all  the  extravagant  additions  which  itself  has  con- 
jured up.     This,  however,  is  nothing  like  the  truth.     Events 
me  not  so  prompt  in  their  consequences,  as  the  human  mind 
hi  its  deductions.     There  is  in  all  things  a  mixture  of  good 
find  evil,  so  profound,  so  inseparable,  that,  in  whatever  part 
you  penetrate,  if  even  you  descend  to  the  lowest  elements  of 
Kiciety,  or  into  the  soul  Itself,  you  will  there  find  these  two 
Manciples  dwelling  together,  developing  themselves  side  by 
j-ide    perpetually   stru^glint;  a  id  quarrelling  with  each  other. 


IIS  GENERAL    HISTORY    0> 

but  neither  of  them  ever  obtaining  a  complete  victory,  01  abso 
iutely  destroying  its  fellow.  Human  nature  never  reaches  tc 
/the  extreme  either  of  good  or  evil.  It  passes,  without  ceasing 
^from  one  to  the  other  ;  it  recovers  itself  at  the  moment  when  il 
seems  lost  for  ever.  It  slips  and  loses  ground  at  the  moment 
when  it  seems  to  ha  7e  assumed  the  firmest  position. 

We  again  discover  here  that  character  of  discordance,  of 
diversity,  of  strife,  to  which  I  formerly  called  your  attention, 
Qfc  the  fundamental  character  of  European  civilization. ,   Be- 
sides this,  there  is  another  general  fact  which  characterizes 
the  government  of  the  Church,  which  we  rr.ust  not  pass  over 
without  notice.    In  the  present  day,  when  the  idea  of  govern- 
ment presents  itself  to  our  mind,  we  know,  of  whatever  kind 
it  may  be,  that  it  will  scarcely  pretend  to  any  authority  be- 
yond the  outward  actions  of  men,  beyond  the  civil  relations 
between  man  and  man.    Governments  do  not  profess  to  carry 
/their  rule  further  than  this.     With  regard  to  human  thought, 
/   to  the  human  conscience,  to  the  intellectual  powers  of  man  ■ 
j    with  regard  to  individual  opinions,  to  private  morals, — with 
I   these  they  do  not  interfere  :  this  would  be  to  invade  the  do 
\main  of  liberty. 

/^  The  Christian  Church  did,  and  was  bent  upon  doing,  exact- 
/  ly  the  contrary.  What  she  undertook  to  govern  was  the  hu- 
man thought,  human  liberty,  private  morals,  individual  opi- 
nions She  did  not  draw  up  a  code  like  ours,  which  took  ac- 
count only  of  those  crimes  that  are  at  the  same  time  offensive 
to  morals  and  dangerous  to  society,  punishing  them  only 
when,  and  because,  they  bore  this  twofold  character  ;  but  pre 
pared  a  catalogue  of  all  those  actions,  criminal  more  particu- 
larly in  a  moral  poin  of  view,  and  punished  them  all  under 
the  name  of  sins.  Her  aim  was  their  entire  suppression.  In 
a  word,  the  government  of  the  Church  did  not,  like  our 
modern  governments,  direct  her  attention  to  the  outward  man, 
or  to  the  purely  civil  relations  of  men  among  themselves  ;  she 
addressed  herself  to  the  inward  man,  to  the  thought,  to  the 
conscience  ;  in  fact,  to  that  which  of  all  things  is  most  hid- 
den and  secure,  most  free,  and  which  spurns  the  least  re- 
straint. The  Church,  then,  by  the  very  rature  of  its  under- 
taking, combined  with  the  nature  of  some  of  the  principles 
upon  which  its  government  was  founded,  stood  in  great  peril 
of  falling  into  tyranny  ;  of  an  illegitimate  employment  of  force. 
In  the  mean  time,  this  force  was  encountered  by  a  resistance 


CIVILIZATION     IN     MOIIKKN     KUHOPX.  119 

within  tho  Church  itself,  which  it  could  never  overcome. 
Human  thought  and  liberty,  however  fettered,  however  con- 
fined for  room  and  space  in  which  to  exercise  their  faculties 
oppose  wilh  so  much  energy  every  attempt  to  enslave  them, 
that  their  reaction  makes  even  despotism  itself  to  yield,  and 
give  up  something  every  moment.  This  took  place  in  the 
very  bosom  of  the  Christian  Church.  We  have  seen  heresy 
proscribed — the  right  of  free  inquiry  condemned  ;  a  contempt 
shown  for  individual  reason,  the  principle  of  tho  imperative 
transmission  of  doctrines  by  human  authority  established.  And 
yet  where  can  we  find  a  society  in  which  individual  reason 
more  boldly  developed  itself  than  in  the  Church  1  What  are 
sects  and  heresies,  if  not  the  fruit  of  individual  opinions  { 
These  sects,  these  heresies,  all  these  oppositions  which  arose 
in  the  Christian  Church,  are  the  most  decisive  proof  of  the 
life  and  moral  activity  which  reigned  within  her :  a  life  stormy, 
painful,  sown  with  perils,  with  errors  and  crimes — yet  splen- 
did and  mighty,  and  which  has  given  place  to  the  noblest  de- 
velopments of  intelligence  and  mind.  But  leaving  the  oppo- 
sition, and  looking  to  the  ecclesiastical  government  itself — 
how  does  the  case  stand  here  ?  You  will  find  it  constituted, 
you  will  find  it  acting,  in  a  manner  quite  opposite  to  what  you 
would  expect  from  some  of  its  principles.  It  denies  the  right 
of  inquiry,  it  wishes  to  deprive  individual  reason  of  its  liber- 
ty ;  yet  it  appeals  to  reason  incessantly ;  practical  liberty  ac- 
tually predominates  in  its  affairs.  What  are  its  institutions, 
its  means  of  action  ?  Provincial  councils,  national  councils, 
general  councils ;  a  perpetual  correspondence,  a  perpetual 
publication  of  letters,  of  admonitions,  of  writings.  No  govern- 
ment ever  went  so  far  in  discussions  and  open  deliberations. 
One  might  fancy  one's  self  in  the  midst  of  the  philosophical 
schools  of  Greece.  But  it  was  not  here  a  mere  discussion, 
it  was  not  a  simple  search  after  truth  that  here  occupied  the 
attention  ;  it  was  questions  of  authority,  of  measures  to  be 
taken,  of  decrees  to  be  drawn  up,  in  short,  the  business  of  a 
government.  Such  indeed  was  the  energy  of  intellectual  life 
in  the  bosom  of  this  government,  that  it  became  its  predomi- 
nant, universal  character ;  to  this  all  others  gave  way ;  and 
that  which  shone  forth  from  all  its  part",  was  the  exercise  of 
reason  and  liberty.12 

18  There  are  severa,  things  in  the  foregoing  paragraphs  not  quits 
accurately  put. 


120  .    OENF.RAL    HISTORi     OF 

I  am  far,  notwithstanding  all  this,  from  believing  that  the 
vicious  principles,  which  I  have  endeavored  to  expiain,  and 

The  assumption  of  the  right,  or  the  exercise  of  the  power  to 
coerce  faith,  to  punish  physically  for  religious  opinions,  cannot  in- 
deed be  too  strongly  condemned.  It  was  a  monstrous  tyranny  ex- 
ercised by  the  Church  at  this  period.  The  right  of  separating  from 
its  society  such  as  rejected  the  fundamental  articles  of  its  constitu- 
tion, is  entirely  a  different  thing — being  a  right  inherent  in  every 
association,  not  to  advert  here  to  any  grounds  on  which  the  obliga- 
tion to  do  so  was  thought  to  rest. 

Again ;  in  regard  to  the  authority  of  the  Church  and  the  "  rights 
of  individual  reason" — here  undoubtedly,  in  the  corrupt  ages  of  the 
Church,  monstrous  abuses  grew  up  ;  yet  these  ;\buses  should  be  dis- 
tinguished from  the  primitive  principle,  from  the  perversion  or 
which  they  sprang — the  principle  which  required  implicit  faith  in 
all  matters  divinely  revealed. — It  is  incorrect,  too,  to  represent  the 
Church,  even  at  its  most  corrupt  period,  as  maintaining  "  the  prin- 
cin!?  of  the  imperative  transmission  of  doctrines  by  human  au- 
thority established."  The  absolute  subjection  of  all  Church  au- 
thority, as  well  as  of  the  individual  members  of  the  Church,  to  the 
authority  of  the  Divine  Word,  was  always  held. 

Nor,  again,  does  the  Church  deserve  the  praise  given  to  it  in  the 
text  of  acting  in  its  councils  in  opposition  to  its  principles.  In  the 
councils,  the  Church  no  doubt  exercised  to  a  certain  extent  the 
right  inherent  in  all  ordinary  associations  of  legislating  for  itself. 
In  all  matters  relating  to  rites,  ceremonies,  and  doctrines,  not  con- 
sidered to  be  definitively  settled  by  Divine  appointment,  these  coun- 
cils exercised  the  power  of  determining  by  their  own  authority. 
In  all  such  matters  there  was  scope  for  "  discussion,  deliberation," 
an  I  arbitrary  preference.  But  when  the  question  was  concerning 
any  fundamental  article  of  faith,  the  statement  that  "one  might 
fancy  one's  self  in  the  midst  of  the  philosophical  schools  of 
Greece,"  is  anything  but  true.  They  never  dreamed  of  settling 
any  such  question  by  excogitation,  speculation,  reasoning.  The 
appeal  was  to  the  j-acred  Scriptures  as  the  ultimate  and  absolute 
authority.  It  was  a  matter  of  interpretation.  If  the  sacred  writ- 
ings were  not  clear  and  decisive  in  themselves  of  the  point  in  ques- 
tion, the  next  and  only  inquiry  was,  what  could  be  historically 
ascertained  to  have  been  the  interpretation  sanctioned  by  the  uni- 
versal consent  of  the  Church  from  the  Apostolic  age  downwards, 
— and  that  was  held  to  be  decisive.  Such  was  always  the  theory 
of  the  Church  as  to  the  authority  of  its  councils:  it  was  never 
imagined  that  the  ascertained  consent  of  the  Church  universal 
from  the  primitive  age,  in  regard  to  a  question  of  interpretation 
bearing  on  an  article  of  faith,  could  be  set  aside,  by  any  discussion 
m  vote,  by  any  speculation  or  reasoning. 

Thus,  from  not  distinguishing  things  quite  distinct,  the  author's 
censure  on  the  one.  hand,  and  his  praise  on  the  other,  may  convey 
an  erroneous  impression. 


CIVILIZATION     IN     MOM  PK.  121 

which,  in  my  opinion,  existed  in  the  Christian  Church,  exi^t 
sd  there  without  producing  any  effect.  In  the  period  now 
under  review,  they  already  bore  very  bitter  fruits  ;  at  a  later 
period  they  bore  others  still  more  bitter ;  still  they  did  not 
produce  all  the  evils  which  might  have  been  expected,  they 
Jid  not  choke  the  good  which  sprang  up  in  the  same  soil. 
►Such  was  the  Church  considered  in  itself,  in  its  interior,  in 
ifc<  own  nature. 


Let  us  now  consider  it  in  its  relations  with  sovereigns,"^ 
with  the  holders  of  temporal  authority.  This  is  the  second  i 
poin   of  view  in  which  I  have  promised  to  consider  it. 

"When  at  the  fall  of  the  western  empire,  when,  instead  of 
the  ancient  Roman  government,  under  which  the  Church  had 
been  born,  under  which  she  had  grown  up,  with  which  she 
had  common  habits  and  old  connexions,  she  found  herself  )r+*& 
surrounded  by  barbarian  kings,  by  barbarian  chieftains,  wan- 
dering from  place  to  place,  or  shut  up  in  their  castles,  with 
whom  she  had  nothing  in  common,  between  whom  and  her 
there  was  as  yet  no  tie — neither  traditions,  nor  creeds,  nor  £*v/*^« 
feelings;  her  danger  appeared  great,  and  her  fears  were 
equally  so.  /A+*&~y4 

One  only  idea  became  predominant  in  the  Church  ;  it  was  to'    '  *^r^y 
take  possession  of  these  new-comers — to  convert  them.    The 
relations  of  the   Church  with  the  barbarians  had,  at  first, 
scarcely  any  other  aim.13 

To  gain  these  barbarians,  the  most  effective  means  seemed 
to  he  to  dazzle  their  senses  and  work  upon  their  imagination. 
Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  the  number,  pomp,  and  variety  of 

13  Some  of  the  barbarians  had  embraced  Christianity  before  their 
invasion  of  the  Roman  Empire.  Among  these  were  the  Goths, 
converted  in  the  fourth  century  by  their  bishops  Theophilus  and 
Qlphilas;  the  Heruli,  the  Suevi,  the  Vandals,  and  perhaps  the 
Lombards.  They  were  converted  by  Arian  missionaries,  and 
embraced  that  form  of  Christianity.  In  the  sixth  and  seventh  cen- 
turies "he  Suevi,  Visigoths,  and  Lombards  adopted  the  orthodox 
faith :  the  Heruli,  Vandals,  and  Ostro-Goths  adhered  to  Arianism. 

The  remarks  of  the  text  can  therefore  be  applied  literally  only 
t?  the  Burgundians,  Francs,  etc.,  by  whom  the  first  conquerors  of 
the  empire  were  swept  away.  Still,  the  Church  had  much  to  d> 
oven  in  bringing  under  her  full  iiifiVonre  the  first  barbarians. 


122  GENERAL    HISTORY     OY 

religious*  ceremonies  were  at  this  epoch  wonderfully  increased. 

The  ancient  chronicles  particularly  show,  that  it  was  prin- 
;  cipally  in  this  way  that  the  Church  worked  upon  the  barba- 
l  rians.     She  converted  them  by  grand  spectacles. 


But  even  when  they  had  become  settled  and  converted, 
even  after  the  growth  of  some  common  ties  between  them, 
the  danger  of  ihe  Church  was  not  over.  The  brutality,  the 
unthinking,  the  unreflecting  character  of  the  barbarians  weie 
so  great,  that  the  new  faith,  the  new  feelings  with  which  they 
had  been  inspired,  exercised  but  a  very  slight  empire  ovei 
them.  "When  every  part  of  society  fell  a  prey  to  violence, 
the  Church  could  scarcely  hope  altogether  to  escape.  To  save 
herself  she  announced  a  principle,  which  had  already  been 
set  up,  though  but  very  vaguely,  under' the  empire  ;  the_sepa,-« 
ration  of  spiritual  and  temporal  power,  anrijjieir  rnntnal  in. 
dependence.  It  was  by  the  aid  of  this  principle  that  the 
Church  dwelt  freely  by  the  side  of  the  barbarians  ;  she  main- 
tained that  force  had  no  authority  over  religious  belief,  hopes, 
or  promises,  and  that  the  spiritual  and  temporal  worlds  are 
completely  distinct. 

You  cannot  fail  to  see  at  once  the  beneficial  consequences 
which  have  resulted  from  this  principle.  Independently  of 
the  temporary  service  it  was  of  to  the  Church,  it  has  had  the 
inestimable  effect  of  founding  in  justice  the  separation  of  the 
two  authorities,  of  preventing  one  from  controlling  the  other. 
In  addition  to  this,  the  Church,  by  asserting  the  independence 
of  the  intellectual  world,  in  its  collective  form,  prepared  the 
independence  of  the  intellectual  world  in  individuals — the  in- 
dependence of  thought.  The  Church  declared  that  the  sys- 
iem  of  religious  belief  could  not  be  brought  under  the  yoke 
of  force,  and  each  individual  has  been  led  to  hold  the  same 
language  for  himself.  The  principle  of  free  inquiry,  the 
liberty  of  individual  thought,  is  exactly  the  same  as  that  of  the 
independence  of  the  spiritual  authority  in  general,  with  regard 
to  temporal  power. 

The  desire  for  liberty,  unfortunately,  is  but  a  &tep  from  the 
desire  for  power.  The  Church  soon  passed  from  one  to  the 
other.  When  she  had  established  her  independence,  it  was 
in  accordance  with  the  natural  course  of  ambition  that  she 
should  attempt  to  raise  her  spiritual  authority  above  temporal 
authority.     We  must  not,  however,  suppose  that  this  claim 


CIVILIZATION    ix    MOClRN    BUKOPC. 

nad  any  oilier  origin  than  the  weaknesses  of  humanity  ,  some 
of  these,  arc  very  profound,  and  it  is  of  importance  that  they 
should  he  known. 

When  liberty  prevails  in  the  intellectual  world,  when  the 
thoughts  and  consciences  of  men  are  not  enthralled  by  a  pow- 
er which  calls  in  question  their  right  of  deliberating,  of  de- 
ciding, and  employs  its  authority  against  them ;  when  there 
is  no  visible  constituted  spiritual  government  laying  claim  to 
the  right  of  dictating  opinions ;  in  such  circumstances,  the 
idea  of  the  domination  of  the  spiritual  order  over  the  tempo- 
ral could  scarcely  spring  up.  Such  is  very  nearly  the  present 
state  of  the  world.  But  when  there  exists,  as  there  did  in  the 
tenth  century,  a  government  of  the  spiritual  order ;  when  the 
human  thought  and  conscience  are  subject  to  certain  laws,  to 
certain  institutions,  to  certain  authorities,  which  have  arro- 
gated to  themselves  the  right  to  govern,  to  constrain  them  ;  in 
short,  when  spiritual  authority  is  established,  when  it  has 
effectively  taken  possession,  in  the  name  of  right  and  power, 
of  the  human  reason  and  conscience,  it  is  natural  that  it  should 
go  on  to  assume  a  domination  over  the  temporal  order ;  that 
it  should  argue  :  "  What !  have  I  a  right,  have  I  an  authority 
over  that  which  is  most  elevated,  most  independent  in  man — 
over  his  thoughts,  over  his  interior  will,  over  his  conscience  ; 
and  have  I  not  a  right  over  his  exterior,  his  temporal  and  ma- 
terial interests  ?  Am  I  the  interpreter  of  divine  justice  and 
truth,  and  yet  not  able  to  regulate  the  affairs  of  this  world  ac- 
cording to  justice  and  truth  V* 

The  force  of  this  reasoning  shows  that  the  spiritual  orderj 
had  a  natural  tendency  to  encroach  on  the  temporal.  This 
tendency  was  increased  by  the  fact,  that  the  spiritual  order, 
at  this  time,  comprised  all  the  intelligence  of  the  age,  every 
possible  development  of  the  human  mind.  There  was  but 
tup  scjeiiKH,  theology ;  but  one  spiritual  order,  the  theological : 
all  the  other  sciences,  rhetoric,  arithmetic,  and  even  music, 
centred  in  theology. 

The  spiritual  power,  rinding  itself  thus  in  possession  of  aU 
the  intelligence  of  the  age,  at  the  head  of  all  intellectual  ac- 
tivity, was  naturally  enough  led  to  arrogate  to  itself  the  gene- 
mi  government  of  the  world. 

A  Hcc.nl  cause,  which  very  much  favored  its  views,  v. 


124  GENERAL    111=7  OR  Y    OF 

the  dieadful  state  of  the  temporal  order,  the  violence  and 
iniquity  which  prevailed  in  all  temporal  governments. 

For  some  centuries  past  men  might  speak,  with  a  degree  nl 
confidence,  of  temporal  power ;  but  temporal  power,  at  the 
epoch  of  which  we  are  speaking,  was  mere  brutal  force,  u 
system  of  rapine  and  violence.  The  Church,  however  im- 
perfect might  be  her  notions  of  morality  and  justice,  was  in- 
finitely superior  to  a  temporal  government  such  as  this ;  ami 
the  cry  of  the  people  continually  urged  her  to  take  its  placJi 

When  a  pope  or  bishop  proclaimed  that  a  sovereign  had 
lost  his  rights,  that  his  subjects  were  released  from  their  oath 
of  fidelity,  this  interference,  though  undoubtedly  liable  to  the 
greatest  abuses,  was  often,  in  the  particular  case  to  which  it 
was  directed,  just  and  salutary.     It  generally  holds,  indeed; 

(that  where  liberty  is  wanting,  religion,  in  a  great  measure 
supplies  its  place.  In  the  tenth  century,  the  oppressed  na- 
tions were  not  in  a  state  to  protect  themselves,  to  defend  their 
rights  against  civil  violence — religion,  in  the  name  of  Heaven, 
placed  itself  between  them.  This  is  one  of  the  causes  which 
most  contributed  to  the  success  of  the  usurpations  of  the 
Church. 

There  is  a  third  cause,  which,  in  my  opinion,  has  not  been 
^sufficiently  noticed.    This  is  the  manifold  character  and  situa- 
tion of  the  leaders  of  the  Church ;  the  variety  of  aspects 
(under  which  they  appeared  in  society.     On  one  side  they 
/were  prelates,  members  of  the  ecclesiastical  order,  a  portion 
/  of  the  spiritual  power,  and  as  such  independent :  on  the  other, 
they  were  vassals,  and  by  this  title  formed  one  of  the  links 
\  of  civil  feudalism.     But  this  was  not  all :  besides  being  vas- 
Vsals,  they  were  also  subjects.     Something  similar  to  the  an- 
cient relations  in  which  the  bishops  and  clergy  had  stood  to- 
wards the  Roman  emperors  low  existed  between  the  clergy 
and  the  barbarian  sovereigns.     A  series  of  causes,  which  it 
would  be  tedious  to  detail,  had  brought  the  bishops  to  look 
upon  the  barbarian  kings,  to  a  certain  degree,  as  the  succes- 
sors of  the  Roman  emperors,  and  to  attribute  to  them  the 
eame  rights.     The  heads  of  the  clergy  then  had  a  threefold 
character :  first,  they  were  ecclesiastics,  and  as  such  held  to 
the  performance  of  certain  duties  ;  secondly,  they  were  feudal 
vassals,  with  the  rights  and  obligations  of  such ;  thirdly,  thoy 
were  mere  subjects,  and  as  such  bound  to  render  obedience 
to  an  absolute  sovereign.    Observe  the  necessary  consequence 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODE  UN     EG  fcl  -fi;.  1 2d 

of  thio.  The  temporal  sovereigns,  no  whit  less  covetous,  DC 
whit  less  ambitious  than  the  bishops,  frequently  made  use  of 
their  temporal  power,  as  superiors  or  sovereigns,  to  attack  the 
independence  of  the  Church,  to  usurp  the  right  of  collating  to 
benefices,  of  nominating  to  bishopricks,  and  so  on.  On  the 
other  side,  the  bishops  often  sheltered  themselves  under  theil 
spiritual  independence  to  refuse  the  performance  of  their  obli- 
gations as  vassals  and  subjects ;  so  that  on  both  sides  there 
way  an  inevitable  tendency  to  trespass  on  the  rights  of  tie 
other  :  on  the  side  of  the  sovereigns,  to  destroy  spiritual  in- 
dependence ;  on  the  side  of  the  heads  of  tho  Church,  to 
make  their  spiritual  independence  the  means  of  universal 
dominion. 

This  result  snowed  itself  sufficiently  plain  in  events  tfellN 
known  to  you  all ;  in  the  quarrel  respecting  investitures  ;  in  / 
the  struggle  between  the  Holy  See  and  the  Empire.     The' 
threefold  character  of  the  heads  of  the  Church,  and  tho  diffi- 
culty of  preventing  them  from  trespassing  on  one  another, 
was  the  real  cause  of  the  uncertainty  and  strife  of  all  its 
pretensions. 

Finally,  the  Church  had  a  third  connexion  with  the  sovc-J 
reigns,  and  it  was  to  her  the  most  disastrous  and  fatal.  Sh^ 
laid  claim  to  the  right  of  coercion,  to  the  right  of  restraining 
and  punishing  heresy.  But  she  had  no  means  by  which  to  do  ; 
this ;  she  had  no  physical  force  at  her  disposal :  when  she 
had  condemned  the  heretic,  she  was  without  the  power  tc 
carry  her  sentence  into  execution.  What  was  the  conse- 
quence ?  She  called  to  bsr  aid  the  secular  arm ;  she  had  to 
borrow  the  power  of  the  civil  authority  as  the  means  of  com- 
pulsion. To  what  a  wretched  shift  was  she  thus  driven  by 
the  adoption  of  the  wicked  and  detestable  principles  of  coer- 
cion and  persecution ! 

I  must  stop  here.  There  is  not  sufficient  time  for  us  to 
finish  our  investigation  of  the  Church.  We  have  still  to 
consider  its  relation  with  the  people,  the  principles  which 
prevailed  in  its  intercourse  with  them,  and  what  consequences 
resulted  from  its  bearing  upon  civilization  in  general.  I  shall 
afterwards  endeavor  to  confirm  by  history,  by  facts,  by  what 
befell  the  Church  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  century,  the  in- 
ductions which  we  havo  drawn  from  the  nature  of  her  inftti- 
unions  and  principles. 


LECTUUE  VI 

THE    CHURCH. 

In  the  present  lecture  we  shall  conclude  our  inquiries  re- 
specting the  state  of  the  Church.  In  the  last,  I  stated  that  I 
should  place  it  before  you  in  three  principal  points  of  view  : 
first,  in  itself — in  its  interior  constitution  and  nature,  as  a  dis- 
tinct and  independent  society :  secondly,  in  its  relations  with 
sovereigns,  with  temporal  power ;  thirdly,  in  its  relations 
with  the  people.  Having  then  been  able  to  accomplish  no 
more  than  the  first  two  parts  of  my  task,  it  remains  for  me  to- 
day to  place  before  you  the  church  in  its  delations  with  the 
people.  I  shall  endeavor,  after  I  havo  done  this,  to  sum  up 
this  threefold  examination,  and  to  give  a  general  judgment 
respecting  the  influence  of  the  church  from  the  fifth  to  the 
twelfth  century ;  finally,  I  shall  close  this  part  of  my  subject 
by  verifying  my  statements  by  an  appeal  to  facts,  by  an  ex- 
amination of  the  history  of  the  Church  during  this  period. 

You  will  easily  understand  that,  in  speaking  of  the  relations 
of  the  Church  with  the  people,  I  shall  be  obliged  to  confine 
myself  to  very  general  views.  It  is  impossible  that  I  should 
enter  into  a  detail  of  the  practices  of  the  Church,  or  recount 
the  daily  intercourse  of  the  clergy  with  their  charge.  It  is 
he  prevailing  principles,  and  the  great  effects  of  the  system 
and  conduct  of  the  Church  towards  the  body  of  Christians,  thai 
I  shall  endeavor  to  bring  before  you. 


r  A  striking  feature,  and,  I  am  bound  to  say,  a  radical  vice  in 
/he  relations  of  the  Church  with  the  people,  was  the  separa- 
tion of  the  governors  and  the  governed;  which  left  the  governed 
without  any  influence  upon  their  government,  which  establish- 
ed the  independence  of  the  clergy  with  respect  to  the  general 
oody  of  Christians. 

It  would  seem  as  if  this  evil  was  called  forch  by  the  state 
i/f  man  and  society,  for  it  was  introduced  into  the   Christian 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN     EUROPE.  127 

Church  at  a  very  early  period.  The  separation  of  tho  clergy 
and  the  people  was  not  altogether  perfected  at  the  time  of 
whicb  we  an  speaking;  there  were  certain  occasions — the 
•  lection  of  bishops,  for  example — upon  which  tho  peoplo,  at 
least  sometimes,  took  part  in  church  government.  This  in- 
terference, however,  became  weaker  and  weaker,  as  well  ay 
more  rare  ;  even  in  the  second  century  it  had  begun  rapidly 
;ind  visibly  to  decline.  Indeed,  the  tendency  of  the  Church  tn 
lotacli  itself  from  the  rest  of  society,  the  establishment  of  the  ' 
independence  of  the  clergy,  forms,  to  a  great  extent,  the  his- 
tory of  the  Church  from  its  very  cradle. 

It  is  impossible  to  disguise  the  fact,  that  from  this  circum- 
stance sprang  the  greater  number  of  abuses,  which,  from  this 
period,  cost  the  Church  so  dear  ;  as  well  as  many  others  which 
entered  into  her  system  in  after-times.  We  must  not,  how- 
ever, impute  all  its  faults  to  this  principle,  nor  must  we  regard 
this  tendency  to  isolation  as  peculiar  to  the  Christian  clergy. 
There  is  in  the  very  nature  of  religious  society  a  powerful  in\ 
clination  to  elevate  the  governors  above  the  governed ;  to  re- J 
gard  them  as  something  distinct,  something  divine.  This  is 
the  effect  of  the  mission  with  which  they  are  charged  ;  of  the 
character  in  which  they  appear  before  the  people.  This  ef- 
fect, however,  is  more  hurtful  in  a  religious  society  than  in  any 
other.  For  with  what  do  they  pretend  to  interfere]  With 
the  reason  and  conscience  and  future  destiny  of  man  :  that  is 
to  say,  with  that  which  is  the  closest  locked  up ;  with  that 
which  is  most  strictly  individual,  with  that  which  is  most  free. 
We  can  imagine  how,  u^  to  a  certain  point,  a  man,  whatever 
ill  may  result  from  it,  may  give  up  the  direction  of  his  tempo- 
ral affairs  to  an  outward  authority.  We  can  conceive  a  no- 
tion of  that  philosopher  who,  when  one  told  him  that  his  house 
was  on  fire,  said,  "  Go  and  tell  my  wife  ;  I  never  meddle  with 
household  affairs."  But  when  our  conscience,  our  thoughts, 
aur  intellectual  existence  are  at  stake — to  give  up  the  govern- 
ment of  one's  self,  to  deliver  over  one's  very  soul  to  the  author- 
ity of  a  stranger,  is,  indeed,  a  moral  suicide  :  is,  indeed,  a 
thousand  times  worse  than  bodily  servitude — than  to  become 
a  mere  appurtenance  of  the  soil. 

Such,  nevertheless,  was  the  evil,  which  without  ever,  as  I 
Jiall  presently  show,  completely  prevailing,  invaded  more  and 
more  the  Christian  Church  in  its  relations  with  the  people. 
We  have  already  seen,  that  even  in  the  bosom  of  the  Church 
•tself.  the  lower  orders  of  the  clergy  had  no  guarantee  for  iheu 


128  GENERAL    HISTORY     OE 

liberty  ;  it  was  much  worse,  out  of  the  Church,  for  the  U.hv 
Among  churchmen  there  was  at  least  discussion,  deliberation, 
the  display  of  individual  faculties  ;  the  struggle,  itself,  sup* 
plied  in  some  measure  the  place  of  liberty.  There  was  nothing, 
however,  like  this  between  the  clergy  and  the  people.  The 
laity  had  no  further  share  in  the  government  of  the  Churcli 
than  as  simple  lookers-on.  Thus  we  see  quickly  shoot  up  and 
thrive,  the  idea  that  theology,  that  religious  questions  and  af- 
fairs, were  the  privileged  territory-  of  the  clergy ;  that  the 
clergy  alone  had  the  right,  not  only  to  decide  upon  all  matters 
respecting  it,  but  likewise  that  they  alone  had  the  right  to  study 
it,  and  that  the  laity  ought  not  to  intermeddle  with  it.  At  the 
period  of  which  we  are  now  speaking,  this  theory  had  fully 
established  its  authority,  and  it  has  required  ages,  and  revo- 
lutions full  of  terror,  to  overcome  it ;  to  restore  to  the  publi  3 
the  right  of  debating  religious  questions,  and  inquiring  into 
their  truths. 

In  principle,  then,  as  well  as  in  fact,  the  legal  separation 
of  the  clergy  and  the  laity  was  nearly  completed  before  the 
twelfth  century. 

It  must  not,  however,  be  understood,  that  the  Christian 
World  had  no  influence  upon  its  government  during  this  period. 
Of  legal  interference  it  was  destitute,  but  not  of  influence.  It 
is,  indeed,  almost  impossible  that  such  should  be  the  case  un- 
der any  kind  of  government,  and  more  particularly  so  of  one 
founded  upon  the  common  opinions  and  belief  of  the  govern- 
ing and  governed.  For,  wherever  this  community  of  ideas 
springs  up  and  expands,  wherever  the  same  intellectual  move- 
ment carries  onward  for  government  and  the  people,  there 
necessarily  becomes  formed  between  them  a  tie,  which  no 
vice  in  their  organization  can  ever  altogether  break.  To 
make  you  clearly  understand  what  I  mean,  I  will  give  you  an 
example,  familiar  to  us  all,  taken  from  the  political  world 
At  no  period  in  the  history  of  France  had  the  French  nation 
less  power  of  a  legal  nature,  I  mean  by  way  of  institutions, 
of  interfering  in  the  government,  than  in  the  seventeenth  and 
eighteenth  centuries,  during  the  reigns  of  Louis  XIV.  and  XV. 
All  the  direct  and  official  means  by  which  the  people  could 
oxcrcise  any  authority  had  been  cut  off  and  suppressed.  Yet 
there  cannot  be  a  doubt  but  that  the  put  lie,  the  country,  ex- 
ercised, at  this  time,  more  influence  upon  the  government  than 
ut  any  other,  more,  for  example,  than  when  the  states-gen- 


riVIMZAT'oN    IN    ftODStN    F.rnnrr..  12H 

era!  had  been  frequently  convoked  \  than  when  the  \v.\t\v.\ 
ments  intermeddled  to  a  considerable  extent  in  polities',  tli:in 
when  tho  people  had  a  much  greater  legal  participation  in  the 
government. 

It  must  have  been  observed  by  all  that  there  exists  a  powei 
which  no  law  can  comprise  or  suppress,  and  which,  in  times 
of  need,  goes  even  further  than  institutions.  Call  it  the  spirit 
0t  the  age,  public  intelligence,  opinion,  or  what  you  will,  you 
cannot  doubt  its  existence.  In  France,  during  the  seven- 
ieenth  and  eighteenth  centuries,  this  public  opinion  was  more 
powerful  than  at  any  other  epoch  ;  and,  though  it  was  de- 
prived of  the  legal  means  of  acting  upon  the  government,  yet 
it  acted  indirectly,  by  the  force  of  ideas  common  to  the  gov- 
erning and  the  governed,  by  the  absolute  necessity  undei 
which  the  governing  found  themselves  of  attending  to  tho 
opinions  of  the  governed.  What  took  place  in  the  Church 
from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  century  was  very  similar  to  this. 
The  body  of  the  Christian  world,  it  is  true,  had  no  legal  means 
of  expressing  its  desires ;  but  there  was  a  great  advancemeni 
of  mind  in  religious  matters  :  this  movement  bore  along  cler- 
gy and  laity  together,  and  in  this  way  the  people  acted  upon 
the  Church. 

It  is  of  the  greatest  importance  that  these  indirect  influen 
ces  should  be  kept  in  view  in  the  study  of  history.  They  are 
much  more  efficacious,  and  often  more  salutary,  than  we  tako 
them  to  be.  It  is  very  natural  that  men  should  wish  their  in 
fluence  to  be  prompt  and  apparent ;  that  they  should  covet  tho 
credit  of  promoting  success,  of  establishing  power,  of  pro- 
curing triumph.  But  this  is  not  always  either  possible  or 
useful.  There  are  times  and  situations  when  the  indirect, 
unperceived  influence  is  more  beneficial,  more  practicable. 
Let  me  borrow  another  illustration  from  politics.  We  know 
that  the  English  parliament  more  than  once,  and  particularly 
in  1641,  demanded,  as  many  other  popular  assemblies  have 
done  in  such  cases,  the  power  to  nominate  the  ministers  and 
great  officers  of  the  crown.  The  immense  direct  force  which 
by  this  means  it  would  exercise  upon  the  government  was  re- 
gardBd  as  a  precious  guarantee.  But  how  has  it  turned  out  ? 
Why,  in  the  few  cases  in  which  it  has  been  permitted  to  pos- 
sess this  power,  the  result  has  been  always  unfavorable.  The 
choice  has  been  badly  concerted ;  affairs  badly  conducted 
But  what  is  the  case  in  the  present  day  ?  Is  it  not  the  in- 
fluence of  the  two  houses  of  parliament  which  determine* 


130  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

[lie  choice  of  ministers,  and  the  nomination  to  all  the  great 
offices  of  state  1  And,  though  this  influence  be  indirect  and 
general,  it  is  found  to  work  better  than  the  direct  interference 
of  parliament   which  has  always  terminated  badly. 

There  is  one  reason  why  this  should  be  so,  which  I  must 
beg  leave  to  lay  before  you,  at  the  expense  of  a  few  minutes 
of  your  time.  The  direct  action  upon  government  supposes 
those  to  whom  it  is  confided  possessed  of  superior  talents — 
of  superior  information,  understanding,  and  prudence.  As 
they  go  to  the  object  at  once,  and  per  saltern  as  it  were,  they 
must  be  sure  not  to  miss  their  mark.  Indirect  influences,  on 
the  contrary,  pursuing  a  tortuous  course — only  arriving  at 
their  object  through  numerous  difficulties — become  rectified 
and  adapted  to  their  end  by  the  very  obstacles  they  have  to 
encounter.  Before  they  can  succeed,  they  must  undergo  dis- 
cussxon,  be  combated  and  controlled ;  their  triumph  is  slow, 
conditional,  and  partial.  It  is  on  this  account  that  where  so- 
ciety is  not  sufficiently  advanced  to  make  it  prudent  to  place 
immediate  power  in  the  hands  of  the  people,  these  indirect 
influences,  though  often  insufficient,  are  nevertheless  to  be 
preferred.  It  was  by  such  that  the  Christian  world  acted 
npon  its  government ; — acted,  I  must  allow,  very  inadequately 
—by  far  too  little  ;  but  still  it  is  something  that  it  acted  at  all. 

There  was  another  thing  which  strengthened  the  tie  be- 
tween the  clergy  and  laity.  This  was  the  dispersion  of  the 
clergy  into  every  part  of  the  social  system.  In  almost  all 
other  cases,  where  a  church  has  been  formed  independent  of 
the  people  whom  it  governed,  the  body  of  priests  has  been 
composed  of  men  in  nearly  the  same  condition  of  life.  I  do 
not  mean  that  the  inequalities  of  rank  were  not  sufficiently 
gieat  among  them,  but  that  the  power  was  lodged  in  the  hands 
of  colleges  of  priests  living  in  common,  and  governing  the 
people  submitted  to  their  laws  from  the  innermost  recess  of 
some  sacred  temple.  The  organization  of  the  Christian 
Church  was  widely  different.  From  the  thatched  cottage  of 
he  husbandman — from  the  miserable  hut  of  the  serf  at  the 
loot  of  the  feudal  chateau  to  the  palace  of  the  monarch 
— there  was  everywhere  a  clergyman.  This  diversity  in  the 
situation  of  the  Christian  priesthood,  their  participation  in  all 
the  varied  fortunes  of  humanity — of  common  life — was  a 
great  bond  of  union  between  ihe  laity  and  clergy ;  a  bond 
which  has  been  wanting  in  most  other  hierarchies  invested 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROFE.  131 

with  power.  Besides  this,  the  bishops,  the  heads  ol  the 
Christian  clergy,  were,  as  we  have  seen,  mixed  up  with  the 
feudal  system :  they  were,  at  the  same  time,  members  of  the 
civil  and  of  the  ecclesiastical  governments.  This  naturally 
led  to  similarity  of  feeling,  of  interests,  of  habits,  and  of  man- 
ners, in  the  clergy  an  1  laity.  There  has  been  a  good  foa] 
said,  and  with  reason,  of  military  bishops,  of  priests  who  led 
aecular  lives  ;  but  we  may  be  assured  that  this  evil,  however 
great,  was  not  so  hurtful  as  the  system  which  kept  priests  for 
ever  locked  up  in  a  temple,  altogether  separated  from  common 
life.  Bishops  who  took  a  share  in  the  cares,  and,  up  to  a  cer- 
tain point,  in  the  disorders  of  civil  life,  were  cf  more  use  in 
society  than  those  who  were  altogether  strangers  to  the  peoplo 
to  their  wants,  their  affairs,  and  their  manners.  In  our  sys- 
tem there  has  been,  in  this  respect,  a  similarity  of  fortune,  of 
condition,  which,  if  it  have  not  altogether  corrected,  has,  at 
least,  softened  the  evil  which  the  separation  of  the  governing 
and  governed  must  in  all  cases  prove. 


Now,  having  pointed  out  this  separation,  having  endeavor^N. 
ed  to  determine  its  extent,  let  us  see  how  the  Christian  Church  \ 
governed — let  us  see  in  what  way  it  acted  upon  the  people \J 
under  its  authority. 

What  did  it  do,  on  one  hand,  for  the  development  of  man, ) 
for  the  intellectual  progress  of  the  individual  1 

What  did  it  do,  on  the  other,  for  the  melioration  of  the  fto-/ 
cial  system  ? 


With  regard  to  individual  development,  I  fear  the  Church, 
at  this  epoch,  gave  herself  but  little  trouble  about  it.  She  en- 
deavored to  soften  the  rugged  manners  of  the  great,  and  to 
render  them  more  kind  and  just  in  their  conduct  towards  the 
weaK.  She  endeavored  to  inculcate  a  life  of  morality  among 
the  poor,  and  to  inspire  them  with  higher  sentiments  and  hopes 
han  the  lot  in  which  they  were  cast  would  give  rise  to. 
I  believe  not,  however,  that  for  individual  man — for  the 
drawing  forth  or  advancement  of  his  capacities — that  the 
Church  did  much,  especially  for  the  laity,  during  this  period, 
What  she  did  in  this  way  was  confined  to  the  bosom  of  hftl 


132  GENERAL    HISTORY    nv 

jwn  society.  For  the  development  of  the  clergy,  for  iho  in 
Ptruction  of  the  priesthood,  she  was  anxiously  alive  :  to  pro 
mote  this  she  had  her  schools  her  colleges,  and  all  other  in« 
ctitutions  which  the  deplorable  state  of  society  would  per- 
mit. These  schools  and  colleges,  it  is  true,  were  all  thelogi- 
cal,  and  destined  for  the  education  of  the  clergy  alone  ;  and 
though,  from  the  intimacy  between  the  civil  and  religioii3 
orders,  they  could  not  but  have  some  influence  upon  the  rest 
of  the  world,  it  was  very  slow  and  indirect.  It  cannot,  in- 
deed, be  denied  but  the  Church,  too,  necessarily  excited  and 
kept  alive  a  general  activity  of  mind,  by  the  career  which 
she  opened  to  all  those  whom  she  judged  worthy  to  enlist  in- 
to her  ranks,  but  beyond  this  she  did  little  for  the  intellectual 
improvement  of  the  laity. 

/      For  the  melioration  of  the  social  state    xier  labors  were 

V  greater  and  more  efficacious. . 

/ 
C  She  combated  with  much  persoverance  and  pertinacity  the 
**y  great  vices  of  the  social  condition,  particularly  slavery.  It 
has  been  frequently  asserted  that  the  abolition  of  slavery  in  the 
modern  world  must  be  altogether  carried  to  the  credit  of 
Christianity.  I  believe  this  is  going  too  far  :  slavery  subsist- 
ed for  a  long  time  in  the  bosom  of  Christian  society  without 
much  notice  being  taken  of  it — without  any  great  outcry 
against  it.  To  effect  its  abolition  required  the  co-operation  of 
several  causes — a  great  development  of  new  ideas,  of  new 
principles  of  civilization.  It  cannot,  however,  be  denied  that 
the  Church  employed  its  influence  to  restrain  it ;  the  clergy 
in  general,  and  especially  several  popes,  enforced  the  manu- 
mission of  their  slaves  as  a  duty  incumbent  upon  laymen,  and 
loudly  inveighed  against  the  scandal  of  keeping  Christians  in 
bondage.  Again,  the  greater  part  of  the  forms  by  which 
slaves  were  set  free,  at  various  epochs,  are  founded  upon  re- 
ligious motives.  It  is  under  the  impression  of  some  religious 
feeling — the  hopes  of  the  future,  the  equality  of  all  Christian 
men,  and  so  on — that  the  freedom  of  the  slave  is  granted. 
These,  it  must  be  confessed,  are  rather  convincing  proofs  of 
the  influence  of  the  Church,  and  of  her  desire  for  the  abolition 
:.f  this  evil  of  evils  this  iniquity  of  iniquities  ! 

The  church  did  not  labor  less  worthily  for  the  improvemer.1 


r. UTILIZATION    IN    MODERN    tBROPI. 

?f  civil  and  criminal  legislation.  We  know  to  what  a  terrible 
extent,  notwithstanding  some  few  principles  of  liberty,  this 
was  absurd  and  wretched  ;  we  have  read  of  the  irrational  and 
superstitious  proofs  to  which  the  barbarians  occasionally  had 
recourse — their  trial  by  battle,  their  ordeals,  their  oaths  of 
compurgation — as  the  only  means  by  which  they  could  die- 
cover  the  truth.  To  replace  these  by  more  rational  and  le- 
gitimate proceedings,  the  Church  earnestly  labored,  and  labored 
r.ot  in  vain.  I  have  already  spoken  of  the  striking  difference 
between  the  laws  of  the  Visigoths,  mostly  promulgated  by  the 
councils  of  Toledo,  and  the  codes  of  the  barbarians.  It  is 
impossible  to  compare  them  without  at  once  admitting  the  im- 
mei'se  superiority  of  the  notions  of  the  Church  in  matters  o<* 
jurisprudence,  justice,  and  legislation — in  all  relating  to  the 
discovery  of  truth,  and  a  knowledge  of  human  nature.  It  must 
certainly  be  admitted  that  the  greater  part  of  these  notions 
were  borrowed  from  Roman  legislation ;  but  it  is  not  less 
certain  that  they  would  have  perished  if  the  Church  had  not 
preserved  and  defended  them — if  she  had  not  labored  to  spread 
them  abroad.  If  the  question,  for  example,  is  respecting  tin* 
employment  of  oaths,  open  the  laws  of  the  Visigoths,  and  see 
with  what  prudence  it  controls  their  use  : — 

Let  the  judge,  in  order  to  come  at  the  truth,  first  interrogate  the 
witnesses,  then  examine  the  papers,  and  not  allow  of  oaths  too 
easily.  The  investigation  of  truth  and  justice  demands,  that  the 
documents  on  both  sides  should  be  carefully  examined,  and  that  the 
necessity  of  the  oath,  suspended  over  the  head  of  both  parties,  should 
only  come  unexpectedly.  Let  the  oath  only  be  adopted  in  cause4" 
in  which  the  jud^e  shall  be  able  to  discover  no  written  documents, 
no  proof,  nor  guide  to  the  truth. 

In  criminal  matters,  the  punishment  is  proportioned  to  the 
offence,  according  to  tolerably  correct  notions  of  philosophy, 
morals,  and  justice  ;  the  efforts  of  an  enlightened  legislator 
struggling  against  the  violence  and  caprice  of  barbarian  man- 
ners. The  title  of  cxde  et  morte  hominum  gives  us  a  very  fa- 
vorable example  of  this,  when  compared  with  the  correspond- 
ing laws  of  the  other  nations.  Among  the  latter,  it  is  the 
damage  alone  which  seems  to  constitute  the  crime  ;  and  the 
punishment  is  sought  for  in  the  pecuniary  reparation  which  is 
made  in  compounding  for  it ;  but  in  the  code  of  the  Visigoths 
the  crime  is  traced  to  its  true  and  moral  principle — the  inten- 
sion of  the  perpetrator.     Various  shades  of  guilt — involuntary 


134  WLNERAL    HISTORY    OF 

homicide,  chance-medley  homicide,  justifiable  nomicide,  un 
premeditated  homicide,  and  wilful  murder — are  distinguished 
and  defined  nearly  as  accurately  as  in  our  modern  codes  ;  the 
punishments  likewise  varying,  so  as  to  make  a  fair  approxi- 
mation to  justice.  The  legislator,  indeed,  carried  the  princi- 
ple of  justice  still  further.  He  endeavored,  if  not  to  abolish, 
at  least  to  lessen,  that  difference  of  legal  value,  which  the 
other  barbarian  laws  put  upon  the  life  of  man.  The  only  dis- 
tinction here  made  was  between  the  freeman  and  the  slavo. 
With  regard  to  the  freeman,  the  punishment  did  not  vary  either 
according  to  the  perpetrator,  or  according  to  the  rank  of  tho 
slain,  but  only  according  to  the  mora)  guilt  of  the  murderer. 
With  regard  to  slaves,  not  daring  enthely  to  derrive  masters 
of  the  right  of  life  and  death,  he  at  least  endeavored  to  restrain 
it  and  destroy  its  brutal  character  by  subjecting  it  to  an  open 
and  regular  procedure. 

The  law  itself  is  worthy  of  attention  and  I  therefore  shall 
give  it  at  length  : — 

"  If  no  one  who  is  culpable,  or  the  accomplice  in  a  crime,  ought 
to  go  unpunished,  how  much  more  reasonable  is  it  that  those  should 
be  restrained  who  commit  homicide  maliciously,  or  from  a  slight 
cause  !  Thus,  as  masters  in  their  pride  often  put  their  slaves  to 
death  without  any  cause,  it  is  proper  to  extirpate  altogether  this 
license,  and  to  decree  that  the  present  law  shall  be  for  ever  binding 
upon  all.  No  master  or  mistress  shall  have  power  to  put  to  death 
any  of  their  slaves,  male  or  female,  or  any  of  their  dependants, 
without  public  judgment.  If  any  slave,  or  other  servant,  commits 
a  crime  which  renders  them  subject  to  capital  punishment,  his 
master  or  his  accuser  shall  immediately  give  information  to  the 
judge,  or  count,  or  duke,  of  the  place  in  which  the  crime  has  been 
perpetrated.  After  the  matter  has  been  tried,  if  the  crime  is  prov 
ed,let  the  criminal  receive,  either  by  the  judge  or  by  his  own  mas- 
ter, the  sentence  of  death  which  he  has  merited;  in  such  manner, 
however,  that  if  the  judge  desires  not  to  put  the  accused  to  death, 
he  must  draw  up  against  him  in  writing,  a  capital  sentence,  and 
then  it  will  remain  with  his  master  to  kill  him  or  grant  him  his 
life.  But  when,  indeed,  a  slave,  by  a  fatal  audacity,  in  resisting 
his  master,  shall  strike,  or  attempt  to  strike  him  with  his  arm,  with 
a  stone,  or  by  any  other  means ;  and  the  master,  in  defending  him- 
self, kills  the  slave  in  his  anger,  the  master  shall  in  nowise  be  lia- 
ble to  the  punishment  of  homicide.  But  it  will  be  necessary  to 
->rove  that  the  fact  has  so  happened;  and  that  by  the  testimony  or 
cath  of  the  slaves,  mal=  or  female,  who  witnessed  it,  and  also  by 
the  oath  of  the  person  himself  who  committed  the  deed.  Whoso- 
J«er  from  pure  malice  shall  kill  a  slave  himself,  or  employ  another 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUR'  185 

o  do  bo,  without  his  having  been  publicly  tried,  shall  be  consider 
td  infamous,  shall  be  declared  incapable  of  giving  evidence,  shall 
be   banisned  for  life,  and  his  property  be  given  to  his  nearest 

\&n»— (Vo»  Jud.  L.  VI.  tit.  V.,  1. 12.) 

There  is  another  circumstance  connected  with  the  institu- 
lions  of  the  Chinch,  which  has  not,  in  general,  been  bo  much 
noticed  as  it  deserves.  I  allude  to  its  penitentiary  systeu, 
A-hich  is  the  more  interesting  in  tho  present  day,  because,  so 
far  as  the  principles  and  applications  of  moral  law  are  con- 
cerned, it  is  almost  completely  in  unison  with  the  notions  of 
modern  philosophy.  If  we  look  closely  into  the  nature  of  the 
punishments  inilicted  by  the  Church  at  public  penance,  which 
was  its  principal  mode  of  punishing,  we  shall  find  that  their 
object  was,  above  all  other  things,  to  excite  repentance  in  the 
soul  of  the  guilty ;  in  that  of  the  lookers  on,  the  moral  terror 
of  example.  But  there  is  another  idea  which  mixes  itself  up 
with  this — the  idea  of  expiation.  I  know  not,  generally^ 
speaking,  whether  it  be  possible  to  separate  the  idea  of  punish- 
ment from  that  of  expiation  ;  and  whether  there  be  not  in  alU 
punishment,  independently  of  the  desire  to  awaken  the  guilty 
to  repentance,  and  to  deter  those  from  vice  who  might  be  un- 
der temptation,  a  secret  and  imperious  desire  to  expiate  the 
wrong  committed.  Putting  this  question,  however,  aside,  it  is 
sufficiently  evident  that  repentance  and  example  were  the  ob- 
jects proposed  by  the  Church  in  every  part  of  its  system  of 
penance.  And  is  not  the  attainment  of  these  very  objects  the 
end  of  every  truly  philosophical  legislation  ?  Is  it  not  for  the 
sake  of  these  very  principles  that  the  most  enlightened  law- 
yers have  clamored  for  a  reform  in  the  penal  legislation  of 
Europe  1  Open  their  books — those  of  Jeremy  Bentham  for 
example — and  you  will  be  astonished  at  the  numerous  resem- 
blances whic  a  you  will  everywhere  find  between  their  plans 
of  punishment  and  those  adopted  by  the  Church.  "We  may  be 
quite  sure  that  they  have  not  borrowed  them  from  her  ;  and 
the  Church  could  scarcely  foresee  that  her  example  would  one 
day  be  quoted  in  support  of  the  system  of  philosophers  not 
very  remarkable  for  their  devotion. 

Finally,  she  endeavored  by  every  means  in  her  power  toV 
suppress  the  frequent  recourse  which  at  this  period  was  had  j 
to  violence  and  the  continual  wars  to  which  society  was  so  / 
fiTonc.     It  is  well  known  what  the  truce  of  God  was,  as  well 


136  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

as  a  number  Oi  other  similar  measures  by  which  the  Church 
hoped  to  prevent  the  employment  of  physical  force,  and  to  ir,* 
troduce  into. the  social  system  more  order  and  gentleness 
The  facts  under  this  head  are  so  well  known,  that  I  shall  not 
go  intc  any  detail  concerning  them  u 


Having  now  run  over  the  principal  points  to  which  I  wish- 
ed to  draw  attention  respecting  the  relations  of  the  Church  to 
the  people  ;  having  now  considered  it  under  the  three  as- 
pects, which  I  proposed  to  do,  we  know  it  within  and  with- 
out ;  in  its  interior  constitution,  and  in  its  twofold  relation.6; 
with  society.  It  remains  for  us  to  deduce  from  what  we  have 

C learned  by  way  of  inference,  by  way  of  conjecture,  its  gene- 
ral influence  upon  European  civilization.  This  is  almost  done 
to  our  hands.  The  simple  recital  of  the  facts  of  the  predomi- 
nant principles  of  the  Church,  both  reveals  and  explains  its 
influence :  the  results  have  in  a  manner  been  brought  before 
~us  with  the  causes.  If,  however,  we  endeavor  to  sum  them 
v  up,  we  shall  be  led,  I  think,  to  two  general  conclusions 

/  The  first  is,  that  the  Church  has  exercised  a  vast  and  im 
f  portant  influence  upon  the  moral  jind  inteJle^tualiffilfiiLflLEu. 
V  rope  ;  upon  the  notions,  sentiments,  ancT  manners  of  society. 
This  fact  r*  evident ;  the  intellectual  and  moral  progress  of 
Europe  has  been  essentially  theological.  Look  at  its  history 
from  the  fifth  to  the  sixteenth  century,  and  you  will  find 
throughout  that  theology  has  possessed  and  directed  the  hu- 
man mind  ;  every  idea  is  impressed  with  theology ;    every 

14  The  '*  Truce  of  God"  was  a  regulation  prohibiting  all  private 
warfare  r  r  duels  on  the  holydays,  from  Thursday  evening  to  Sun- 
day even  Ing  in  each  week,  also  during  the  season  of  Advent  and 
Lent,  and  on  the  "octaves,"  or  eighth  day,  of  the  great  festivals. 
This  rule  was  first  introduced  in  Aquitaine  in  1017;  then  in  France 
and  Burgundy;  subsequently  into  Germany,  England,  and  the 
Netherlands.  During  the  eleventh  century  it  was  enjoined  by  spe- 
aa\  decrees  of  numerous  councils  of  the  Church.  Whoever  en- 
gaged in  private  quarrels  on  the  prohibited  days  was  excommuni- 
cuted.  The  Church  endeavored  by  this  regulation  to  restrict  anrl 
mitigate  evils  which  it  could  not  entirely  repress.  The  Truce  of 
God  was  also  made  Dinding  in  regard  to  certain  places,  as  church- 
es, convents,  hospitals ;  also  certain  persons,  as  clergymen,  and  it. 
general  all  unarmed  and  defenceless  persons. 


CIVILIZATION    EM    HOOSEX    KUKorr..  187 

question  that  has  been  started,  whether  philosophical,  politi 
cal,  or  historical,  has  been  considered  in  a  religious  point  of 
view.  So  powerful,  indeed,  has  been  the  authority  of  the 
Church  in  matters  of  intellect,  that  even  the  mathematical  and 
physical  sciences  have  been  obliged  to  submit  to  its  doctrines. 
The  spirit  of  theology  has  been  as  it  were  the  blood  which 
has  circulated  in  the  veins  of  the  European  world  down  to  th«* 
time  of  Bacon  *nd  Descartes.  Bacon  in  England,  and  Des- 
cartes in  France,  were  the  first  who  carried  the  human  mind 
out  of  the  pale  of  theology. 

We  shall  find  the  same  fact  hold  if  we  travel  through  the 
regions  of  literature  :  the  habits,  the  sentiments,  the  language 
of  theology  there  show  themselves  at  every  step. 

This  influence,  taken  altogether,  has  been  salutary.  It  not 
only  kept  up  and  ministered  to  the  intellectual  movement  in 
Europe,  but  the  system  of  doctrines  and  precepts,  by  whose 
authority  it  stamped  its  impress  upon  that  movement,  was  in- 
calculably superior  to  any  which  the  ancient  world  had  known.*    ^ 

The  influence  of  the  Church,  moreover,  has  given  to  tho>T 
development  of  the  human  mind,  in  our  modern  world,  an  ex-  J 
tent  and  variety  which  it  never  possessed  elsewhere.  In  the' 
East,  intelligence  was  altogether  religious :  among  the  Greeks, 
it  was  almost  exclusively  human :  there  human  culture — hu- 
manity, properly  so  called,  its  nature  and  destiny — actually 
disappeared ;  here  it  was  man  alone,  his  passions,  his  feel- 
ings, his  present  interests,  which  occupied  the  field.  In  our 
world  the  spirit  of  religion  mixes  itself  with  all  but  excludes 
nothing.  Human  feelings,  human  interests,  occupy  a  con- 
siderable space  in  every  branch  of  our  literature  ;  yet  the  re- 
ligious character  of  man,  that  portion  of  his  being  which  con- 
nects him  with  another  world,  appears  at  every  turn  in  them 
nil.  Could  modern  intelligence  assume  a  visible  shape  wo 
•mould  recognise  at  once,  in  its  mixed  character,  the  finger  oi 
man  and  the  finger  of  God.  Thus  the  two  great  sources  of 
human  development,  humanity  and  religion,  have  been  open 
at  the  same  time  and  flowed  in  plenteous  streams.  Notwith- 
standing all  the  evil,  all  the  abuses,  which  may  have  crept 
into  the  Church — notwithstanding  all  the  acts  of  tyranny  of 
which  she  has  been  guilty,  we  must  still  acknowledge  her  in- 
fluence upon  the  progress  and  culture  of  the  human  intellect 
.o  have  been  beneficial ;  that  she  has  assisted  in  its  develop- 
ment rather  than  its  compression,  in  its  exiensior  rather  than 
its  confinement 


138  GENERAL    HISTORY    OK 

/  The  case  is  widely  different  when  we  look  at  the  Church 
I  in  a  political  point  of  view.  By  softening  the  rugged  man- 
•!  ners  and  sentiments  of  the  people ;  by  raising  her  voice 
)  against  a  great  number  of  practical  barbarisms,  and  doing 
I  what  she  could  to  expel  them,  there  is  no  doubt  but  the  Church 
largely  contributed  to  the  melioration  of  the  social  condition; 
but  with  regard  to  politics,  properly  so  called,  with  regard  to 
all  that  concerns  the  relations  between  the  governing  and  the 
governed — between  power  and  liberty — I  cannot  conceal  my 
opinion,  that  its  influence  has  been  baneful.  In  this  respect 
the  Church  has  always  shown  herself  as  the  interpreter  and 
defender  of  two  systems,  equally  vicious,  that  is,  of  theocracy, 
and  of  the  imperial  tyranny  of  the  Roman  empire — that  is  to 
say,  of  despotism,  both  religious  and  civil.  Examine  all  its 
institutions,  all  its  laws ;  peruse  its  canons,  lock  at  its  pro- 
cedure, and  you  will  everywhere  find  the  maxims  of  theocracy 
or  the  empire  to  predominate.  In  her  weakness,  the  Church 
sheltered  herself  under  the  absolute  power  of  the  Roman 
Emperors ;  in  her  strength  she  laid  claim  to  it  herself,  under 
the  name  of  spiritual  power.  We  must  not  here  confine  our- 
selves to  a  few  particular  facts.  The  Church  has  often,  no 
doubt,  set  up  and  defended  the  rights  of  the  people  against  the 
bad  government  of  their  rulers ;  often,  indeed,  has  she  ap- 
proved and  excited  insurrection  ;  often  too  has  she  maintained 
the  rights  and  interests  of  the  people  in  the  presence  of  their 
sovereigns.  But  when  the  question  of  political  securities 
/came  into  debate  between  power  and  liberty ;  when  any  step 
was  taken  to  establish  a  system  of  permanent  institutions, 
which  might  effectually  protect  liberty  from  the  invasions  of 
power  in  general ;  the  Church  always  ranged  herself  on  the 
ide  of  despotism. 

This  should  not  astonish  us,  neither  should  we  be  too  ready 
to  attribute  it  to  any  particular  failing  in  the  clergy,  or  to  any 
particular  vice  in  the  Church.  There  is  a  more  profound  and 
powerful  cause. 

What  is  the  object  of  religion!  of  any  religion,  true  or 
/  false  1  It  is  to  govern  the  human  passions,  the  human  will. 
All  religion  is  a  restraint,  an  authority,  a  government.  It 
comes  in  the  name  of  a  divine  law,  to  subdue,  to  mortify  hu- 
man nature.  It  is  then  to  human  liberty  that  it  directly  op« 
poses  itself.  It  is  human  liberty  that  resists  it,  and  that  it 
.vishes  to  overcome.  This  is  the  grand  object  of  religion  He 
I     mission,  Us  hope. 


Bp; 


."IVM.r/ATk  N    IN    M0DI1M     EUROPr. 

Hut  while  it  is  witli  human  liberty  that  all  religions  havo 
toOQ&tafHl,  while  they  aspire  to  reform  the  will  of  man.  they 
have  no  means  by  which  they  can  act  upon  him — they  have 
no  moral  power  over  him,  but  through  his  own  will,  his  liber- 
ty. When  they  make  use  of  exterior  means,  when  they  rc- 
soi t  to  force,  to  seduction — in  short,  make  use  of  means  op- 
posed to  the  free  consent  of  man,  they  treat  him  as  we  treat 
water,  wind,  or  any  power  entirely  physical :  they  fail  in  their 
object ;  they  attain  not  their  end  ;  they  do  not  reach,  they 
cannot  govern  the  will.  Before  religions  can  really  accom- 
plish their  task,  it  is  necessary  that  they  should  bo  accepted 
by  the  free-will  of  man  :  it  is  necessary  that  man  should  sub- 
mit, but  it  must  be  willingly  and  freely,  and  that  he  still  pre 
serves  his  liberty  in  the  midst  of  this  submission.  It  is  in 
his  that  resides  the  double  problem  which  religions  are  called 
upon  to  resolve. 

They  have  too  oucn  mistaken  their  object.  They  have  re- 
garded liberty  as  an  obstacle,  and  not  as  a  means ;  they  have 
brgotten  the  nature  of  the  power  to  which  they  address  them- 
selves, and  have  conducted  themselves  towards  the  human 
soul  as  they  would  towards  a  material  force.  It  is  this  error 
that  has  led  them  to  range  themselves  on  the  side  of  power, 
on  the  side  of  despotism,  against  human  liberty  ;  regarding  it 
as  an  adversary,  they  have  endeavored  to  subjugate  rather  thair"' 
to  protect  it.  Had  religions  but  fairly  considered  their  means 
of  operation,  had  they  not  suffered  themselves  to  be  drawn 
away  by  a  natural  but  deceitful  bias,  they  would  have  seen 
that  liberty  is  a  condition,  without  which  man  cannot  be  moral- 
ly governed ;  that  religion  neither  has  nor  ought  to  have  any 
means  of  influence  not  strictly  moral :  they  would  have  re- 
spected the  will  of  man  in  their  attempt  to  govern  it.  They 
have  too  often  forgotten  this,  and  the  issue  has  been  that  re- 
ligious power  and  liberty  have  suffered  together. 

I  will  not  push  further  this  investigation  of  the  general  col 
sequences  that  have  followed  the  influence  of  the  Church  up- 
on European  civilization.     I  have  summed  them  up  in  thisY^^^^ 
double  result, — a  great  and  salutary  influence  upon  its  moral  * 
and  intellectual  condition  ;  an  influence  rather  hurtful  than  J 
beneficial  to  its  political  condition.     We  have  now  to  try  oui 
assertions  by  facts,  to  verify  by  history  what  we  have  as  yel 
only  deduced  from  the  nature  and  situation  ot  ecclesiastical 
society      Let  us  now  ?ee  what  was  th«  destiny  of  the  Chri?- 


UO  GENERAL    HISTORY    Ti- 

tian Church  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  century,  and  whether 
the  principles  which  I  have  laid  down,  the  results  which  I 
have  endeavored  to  draw  from  them,  have  really  been  su  ;h  as 
I  have  represented  them. 

Let  me  caution  you,  however,  against  supposing  that  those 
principles,  \hese  results,  appeared  all  at  once,  and  as  clearly 
as  they  are  here  set  forth  by  me.  We  are  apt  to  fall  into  the 
great  and  common  error,  in  looking  at  the  past  through  cen- 
turies of  distance,  of  forgetting  moral  chronology;  we  are 
apt  to  forget — extraordinary  forgetfulness  !  that  history  is  es- 
sentially successive.  Take  the  life  of  any  man — of  Oliver 
Cromwell,  of  Cardinal  Richelieu,  of  Gustavus  Adolphus.  He 
enters  upon  his  career ;  he  pushes  forward  in  life,  and  rises  ; 
great  circumstances  act  upon  him  ;  he  acts  upon  great  cir- 
cumstances. He  arrives  at  the  end  of  all  things — and  then 
it  is  we  know  him.  But  it  is  in  his  whole  character  ;  it  is  as 
a  complete,  a  finished  piece  ;  such  in  a  manner  as  he  is  turn- 
ed out,  after  a  long  labor,  from  the  workshop  of  Providence. 
Now  at  his  outset  he  was  not  what  he  thus  became ;  he  was 
not  completed — not  finished  at  any  single  moment  of  his  life  ; 
he  was  formed  successively.  Men  are  formed  morally  in  the 
same  way  as  they  are  physically.  They  change  every  day. 
Their  existence  is  constantly  undergoing  some  modification 
The  Cromwell  of  1650  was  not  the  Cromwell  of  1640.  It  is 
true,  there  is  always  a  large  stock  of  individuality ;  the  same 
man  still  holds  on  ;  but  how  many  ideas,  how  many  senti- 
ments, how  many  inclinations  have  changed  in  him !  What 
a  number  of  things  he  has  lost  and  acquired !  Thus,  at  what- 
ever moment  of  his  life  we  may  look  at  a  man,  he  is  never 
such  as  we  see  him  when  his  course  is  finished. 

This,  nevertheless,  is  an  error  into  which  a  great  number 
uf  historians  have  fallen.  When  they  have  acquired  a  com 
plete  idea  of  a  man,  have  settled  his  character,  they  see  him 
in  this  same  character  throughout  his  whole  career.  With 
them,  it  is  the  same  Cromwell  who  enters  parliament  in  1628, 
and  who  dies  in  the  palace  of  White-Hall  thirty  years  after- 
wards. Just  such  mistakes  as  these  we  are  very  apt  to  fall 
into  with  regard  to  institutions  and  general  influences.  I  cau- 
tion you  against  them.  I  have  laid  down  in  *heir  complete 
form,  as  a  whole,  the  principles  of  the  Church,  and  the  conse 
quences  which  may  be  deduced  from  them.  Be  assured,  how 
?.ver,  that  historically  this  picture  is  not  true.  All  it  repre 
sents  has  taken  place  disiointedly.  successively ;  has  beet 


CIVILIZATION-    i\    MODERN     RUKOPK.  I  J  I 

scattered  hen1  and  then  over  space  and  time.  Expect  not  tc 
find,  in  the  recital  of  events,  a  similar  completeness  or  whole, 
the  same  prompt  and  systematic  concatenation.  One  principle 
will  be  visible  hero,  another  there ;  all  will  be  incomplete, 
unequal,  dispersed ;  we  must  come  to  modern  times,  to  the 
end  of  its  career,  before  wo  can  view  it  as  a  whole. 

1  shall  now  lay  before  you  the  various  states  through  which 
die  Church  passed  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  century. 
Wejnay  not  find,  perhaps,  the  complete  demonstration  of  the 
tenements  which  1  have  made,  but  we  shall  see  enough,  I  ap- 
prehend, to  convince  us  that  they  are  founded  in  truth. 

The  first  state  in  which  we  see  the  Church  in  the  fifth  cenN 
tury,  is  as  the  Church  imperial — the  Church  of  the  Roman 
Kmpire.  Just  at  the  time  the  Empire  fell,  the  Church  believ- 
ed she  had  attained  the  summit  of  her  hopes :  after  a  long 
struggle,  she  had  completely  vanquished  paganism.  Gratian, 
the  last  emperor  who  assumed  the  pagan  dignity  of  sove- 
reign  pontiff,  died  at  the  close  of  the  fourth  century.  The 
Church  believed  herself  equally  victorious  in  her  struggle 
against  heretics,  particularly  against  Arianism,  the  principal 
heresy  of  the  time.  Theodosius,  at  the  end  of  the  fourth  cen- 
tury, put  them  down  by  his  imperial  edicts ;  and  had  the 
double  merit  of  subduing  the  Arian  heresy  and  abolishing  the 
worship  of  idols  throughout  the  Roman  world.  The  Church, 
then,  was  in  possession  of  the  government,  and  had  obtained 
the  victory  over  her  two  greatest  enemies.  It  was  at  this 
moment  that  the  Roman  Empire  failed  her,  and  she  stood  in 
the  presence  of  new  pagans,  of  new  heretics — in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  barbarians — of  Goths,  of  Vandals,  of  Burgun- 
dians  and  Franks.15  The  fall  was  immense.  You  may  easilyx 
imagine  that  an  affectionate  attachment  for  the  Empire  waa  J 
for  a  long  time  preserved  in  the  Romish  Church.  Hence  we 
Bee  her  cherish  so  fondly  all  that  was  left  of  it — municipal  ) 
government  and  absolute  power.     Hence,  when  she  had  suc- 


15  These  barbarians,  it  will  be  remembered,  followed  the  Arian 
heresy,  both  those  who  embraced  Christianity  before  the  invasion 
of  the  Empire,  and  those  who  did  so  after  that  event.  The  Bur- 
gundians,  converted  by  Arian  missionaries  in  433,  adopted  the 
Catholic  faith  about  517.  The  Franks,  following  the  example  of 
Clow's,  embraced  the  orthodox  faith  in  497. 


142  GENERAL    UISTOKV    Oi' 

ceeded  in  converting  the  barbarians,  she  endeavored  to  re-tn- 
tablish  the  Empire  ;  she  called  upon  the  barbarian  kings,  eht 
conjured  them  to  become  Roman  emperors,  to  assume  the 
privilege  of  Roman  emperors  ;  to  enter  into  the  same  rela- 
tions with  the  Church  which  had  existed  between  her  and  the 
Roman  Empire.  This  was  the  great  object  for  which  the 
oishops  of  the  fifth  and  sixth  centuries  labored.  Such  was 
the  general  state  of  the  Church. 

f    The  attempt  could  not  succeed — it  was  impossible  to  mako 

V.  a  Roman  Empire,  to  mould  a  Roman  society  out  of  barbarians. 

/Like  the  civil  world,  the  Church  herself  sunk  into  barbarism. 
2-  VjThis  was  her  second  state.  Comparing  the  writings  of  the 
monkish  ecclesiastical  chroniclers  of  the  eighth  century  with 
those  of  the  preceding  six,  the  difference  is  immense.  All  re- 
mains of  Roman  civilization  had  disappeared,  even  its  very  lan- 
guage— all  became  buried  in  complete  barbarism.  On  one  side 
the  rude  barbarians,  entering  into  the  Church,  became  bishops 
and  priests  ;  on  the  other,  the  bishops,  adopting  the  barbarian 
life,  became,  without  quitting  their  bishopricks,  chiefs  of  bands 
of  marauders,  and  wandered  over  the  country,  pillaging  and  de- 
stroying like  so  many  companies  of  Clovis.  Gregory  of  Tours 
gives  an  account  of  several  bishops  who  thus  passed  their 
lives,  and  among  others  Salone  and  Sagittarius. 

Two  important  facts  took  place  while  the  Church  continued 
in  this  state  of  barbarism. 

The  first  was  the  separation  of  the  spiritual  and  temporal 
powers.  Nothing  could  be  more  natural  than  the  birth  of  this 
principle  at  this  epoch.  The  Church  would  have  restored 
yr*£#-%iihe  absolute  power  of  the  Roman  Empire  that  she  might  par- 
,  take  of  it,  but  she  could  not ;  she  therefore  sought  her  safety 
in  independence.  It  became  necessary* that  she  should  be 
able  in  all  parts  to  defend  herself  by  her  own  power ;  for  she 
was  threatened  in  every  quarter.  Every  bishop,  every  priest, 
saw  the  rude  chiefs  in  their  neighborhood  interfering  in  the 
affairs  of  the  Church,  that  they  might  procure  a  slice  of  its 
wealth,  its  territory,  its  power  ;  and  no  other  means  of  defence 
seemed  left  but  to  say,  "  The  spiritual  order  is  completely 
separated  from  the  temporal ;  you  have  no  right  to  interfeie 

^with  it."  This  principle  became,  at  every  point  of  attack,  the 
cft'nsive  armor  of  the  Church  against  barbarism. 


* 


/     f  A  secoid  important  fact  which  took  place  at  this  same  pe 


0*4^*** 


CIVILIZATION     IX     MODKR.V     EUROPl.  \4'\ 

in)d,  was  the  establishment  of  the  monastic  orders  in  the  west. 
It  was  |t  the  commencement  of  the  sixth  century  that  St. 
Benedict  published  the  rules  of  his  order  for  the  uso  of  the 
.nonks  of  the  west,  then  few  in  number,  but  who  from  this 
ime  prodigiously  increased.  The  monks  at  this  epoch  did 
not  yet  belong  to  the  clerical  body,  but  were  still  regarded  aa 
a  part  of  the  laity.  Priests  and  even  bishops  were  sometimeb 
chosen  from  among  them  ;  but  it  was  not  till  the  close  of  the 
fifth  and  beginning  of  the  sixth  century  that  monks  in  general 
were  considered  as  belonging  to  the  clergy,  properly  so  called. 
Priests  and  bishops  now  entered  the  cloister,  thinking  by  so 
doing  they  advanced  a  step  in  their  religious  life,  and  inci  eas- 
ed the  sanctity  of  their  office.  The  monastic  life  thus  all  at 
once  became  exceedingly  popular  throughout  Europe.  The 
monks  had  a  greater  power  over  the  imagination  of  the  bar- 
barians than  the  secular  clergy.  The  simple  bishop  and  priest 
had  in  some  measure  lost  their  hold  upon  the  minds  of  bar- 
barians, who  were  accustomed  to  see  them  every  day  ;  to 
maltreat,  perhaps  to  pillage  them.  It  was  a  more  important 
matter  to  attack  a  monastery,  a  body  of  holy  men  congregated 
in  a  holy  place.  Monasteries,  therefore,  became  during  this 
barbarous  period  an  asylum  for  the  Church,  as  the  Church  was 
for  the  laity.  Pious  men  here  took  refuge,  as  others  in  the 
East  had  done  before  in  the  Thebias,  in  order  to  escape  the 
worldly  life  and  corruption  of  Constantinople,16 

16  St  Antbony,  born  in  the  year  251,  is  said  to  have  laid  the  foun- 
dation of  the  monastic  orders  about  305,  by  giving  rules  to  the 
Christian  recluses  who  had  withdrawn  to  the  deserts  of  Thebias  in 
Upper  Egypt.  His  discipline  was  carried  by  some  of  his  disciples 
into  Syria.  Subsequently  St.  Basil  (born  326)  founded  a  convent 
in  Pontus.  The  first  community  of  monks  in  Gaul  was  established 
by  St.  Martin  of  Tours,  who  about  375  built  the  famous  convent 
of  Marmou tiers.    He  had  previously  founded  one  at  Milan  in  Italy. 

The  discipline  of  the  Egyptian  monks  was  introduced  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  fifth  century  into  Provence,  by  St.  Honoratius  and 
St.  Cassian ;  the  former  of  whom  established  a  monastery  at  Le- 
rins,  the  latter  at  Marseilles.  4 

There  were,  however,  no  regular  monastic  vows  or  public 

Profession  till  the  sixth  century.  They  were  then  introduced  by 
t.  Benedict,  first  in  a  monastery  founded  by  him  at  Monte  Casino 
near  Naples,  in  529.  The  strict  rules  established  by  him  were 
adopted  into  all  the  European  convents.  By  their  vows  the  monks' 
were  obliged  to  poverty,  chastity,  and  cbedience :  their  rules  of 
discipline  required  them  to  devote  their  time  to  study,  and  to  !  I 
with  their  hands. 


144  OKXKItAl.    HISTORY    OF 

These,  then,  are  the  two  most  important  facts  in  the  hi&toiy 
of  the  Church,  during  the  period  of  barbarism.  First,  the 
separation  of  the  spiritual  and  temporal  powers  ;  and,  secondly, 
the  introduction  and  establishment  of  the  monastic  orders  in 
the  West. 

Towards  the  end  of  this  period  of  barbarism,  a  fresh  attempt 
was  made  to  raise  up  a  new  Roman  empire — I  allude  to  the 
attempt  of  Charlemagne.  The  Church  and  the  civil  sovereign 
again  contracted  a  close  alliance.  The  holy  see  was  full  of 
docility  while  this  lasted,  and  greatly  increased  its  power 
The  attempt,  however,  again  failed.  The  empire  of  Charle- 
magne was  broken  up  ;  but  the  advantages  which  the  see  of 
Rome  derived  from  his  alliance  were  great  and  permanent. 
The  popes  henceforward  were  decidedly  the  chiefs  of  the 
Christian  world. 

Upon  the  death  of  Charlemagne,  another  period  of  nnset- 
tledness  and  confusion  followed.  The  Church,  together  with 
civil  society,  again  fell  into  a  chaos  ;  again  with  civil  society 
vj  she  arose,  and  with  it  entered  into  the  frame  of  the  feudal 
system.  This  was  the  third  state  of  the  Church.  The  dis- 
solution of  the  empire  formed  by  Charlemagne,  was  followed 
Dy  nearly  the  same  results  in  the  Church  as  in  civil  life  ;  all 
unity  disappeared,  all  became  local,  partial,  and  individual 
Now  began  a  struggle,  in  the  situation  of  the  clergy,  such  as 
had  scarcely  ever  before  been  seen :  it  was  the  struggle  of 
the  feelings  and  interest  of  the  possessor  of  the  fief,  with  the 
feelings  and  interest  of  the  priest.  The  chiefs  of  the  clergy 
were  placed  in  this  double  situation  ;  the  spirit  of  the  priest 
and  of  the  temporal  baron  struggled  within  them  for  mastery. 
The  ecclesiastical  spirit  naturally  became  weakened  and  di- 


•  During  the  dark  period  from  the  sixth  century  to  the  ninth,  the 
monks  rendered  great  services  to  the  cause  of  religion,  letters,  and 
civilization.  Bytheir  industrious  hands  waste  forests  and  barren 
lands  were  converted  into  rich  and  productive  gardens;  in  the  con- 
vents were  preserved  all  the  remains  of  ancient  learning ;  there 
missionaries  were  educated. 

Reverence  for  these  institutions,  and  gratitude  for  the  benefits 
they  conferred,  led  to  gifts  and  endowments  on  the  part  of  the 
pious  laity,  until  at  length  tne  monasteries  became  as  notorious  for 
riche?  luxury,  and  corruption,  as  they  were  at  first  for  simplicity 
devot.yn,  and  industrv. 


Oil  ii.i/.a  n.iN    IN    KODBRN    EURO  PI.  146 

» -iilnl  by  this  process — it  was  no  longer  so  powerful,  so  uni 
versal.  Individual  interest  began  to  prevail.  A  taste  for  iiiA 
dependence,  the  habits  of  the  feudal  life,  loosened  the  ties  of  J 
the  hierarchy.  In  this  state  of  tilings,  the  Church  made  an 
attempt  within  its  own  bosom  to  correct  the  effects  of  thih 
general  break-up.  It  endeavored  in  several  parts  of  its  em- 
pire, by  means  of  federation,  by  common  assemblies  and  de-J 
liberations,  to  organize  national  Churches.  It  is  during  this 
jwriod,  during  the  sway  of  the  feudal  system,  that  we  meet 
with  the  greatest  number  of  councils,  convocations,  and  eccle- 
siastical assemblies,  as  well  provincial  as  national.  In  France* 
especially,  this  endeavor  at  unity  appeared  to  be  followed  up 
with  much  spirit.  Hincmar,  archbishop  of  Rheims,  may  bo- 
considered  as  the  representative  of  this  idea.  He  labored  in- 
cessantly to  organize  the  French  Church  ;  he  sought  out  and 
employed  every  means  of  correspondence  and  union  which 
he  thought  likely  to  introduce  into  the  Feudal  Church  a  little 
more  unity.  We  find  him  on  one  side  maintaingthe  indepen- 
dence of  the  Church  with  respect  to  temporal  power,  on  the 
other  its  independence  with  respect  to  the  Roman  see  ;  it  was 
he  who,  learning  that  the  pope  wished  to  come  to  France,  and 
threatened  to  excommunicate  the  bishops,  said,  Si  excommu- 
nicaturus  vencrit,  excommunicatus  abibit. 

But  the  attempt  thus  to  organize  a  feudal  Church  succeed^ 
ed  no  better  than  the  attempt  to  re-establish  the  imperial  oney 
There  were  no  means  of  re-producing  any  degree  of  unity 
among  its  members  ;  it  tended  more  and  more  towards  disso- 
lution.    Each  bishop,  each  prelate,  each  abbot,  isolated  him- 
self more  and  more  in  his  diocess  or  monastery.     Abuses  and 
disorders  increased  from  the  same  cause.     At  no  time  was  the 
crime  of  simony  carried  to  a  greater  extent — at  no  time  vero 
ecclesiastical  benefices  disposed  of  in  a  more  arbitrary  man- 
ner— never  were  the  morals  of  the  clergy  more  loose  and  <!is 
orderly. 

Both  the  people  and  the  better  portion  of^hc  clergy  were 
greatly  scandalized  at  this  sad  state  of  things ;  and  a  desire 
for  reform  in  the  Church  soon  began  to  show  itself — a  desire 
fo  find  some  authority  round  which  it  might  rally  its  better 
principles,  and  which  might  impose  some  wholesome  restraints 
an  the  others.  Several  bishops — Claude  of  Turin,  Agobard 
:>f  Lyons,  &c. — in  their  respective  diocesses  attempted  this, 
but  in  vain  ;  they  were  not  in  a   condition   to   accomplish   so 


4 


146  GENERAL    HISTORY    OV 

vast  a  work  In  the  whole  Church  there  was  only  one  powt;i 
that  could  succeed  in  this,  and  that  was  the  Roman  See ;  noi 
was  that  power  slow  in  assuming  the  position  which  it  wished 
to  attain.     In  the  course  of  the  eleventh  century,  the  Church 

,  entered  upon  its  fourth  state — that  of  a  theocracy  supported 

\  by  monastic  institutions. 

The  person  who  raised  the  Holy  See  to  this  power,  so  fai 
as  it  can  be  considered  the  work  of  an  individual,  was  Gre- 
gory VII." 

It  has  been  the  custom  to  represent  this  great  pontiff  as  an 
enemy  to  all  improvement,  as  opposed  to  intellectual  develop- 
ment, to  the  progress  of  society ;  as  a  man  whose  desire  was 
to  keep  the  world  stationary  or  retrograding.     Nothing  is 

/  farther  from  the  truth.  Gregory,  like  Charlemagne  and  Peter 
L  the  Great,  was  a  reformer  of  the  despotic  school.  The  part 
he  played  in  the  Church  was  very  similar  to  that  which  Char- 
lemagne and  Peter  the  Great,  the  one  in  France  and  the  othei 
in  Russia,  played  among  the  laity.  He  wished  to  reform  the 
Church  first,  and  next  civil  society  by  the  Church.  He  wished 
to  introduce  into  the  world  more  morality,  more  justice,  more 
order  and  regularity  ;  he  wished  to  do  all  this  through  the 
Holy  See,  and  to  turn  all  to  his  own  profit. 

While  Gregory  was  endeavoring  to  bring  the  civil  world 
into  subjection  to  the  Church,  and  the  Church  to  the  See  of 
Rome — not,  as  I  have  said  before,  to  keep  it  stationary,  or 
make  it  retrograde,  but  with  a  view  to  its  reform  and  improve 
ment — an  attempt  of  the  same  nature,  a  similar  movement, 
was  made  within  the  solitary  enclosures  of  the  monasteries. 
The  want  of  order,  of  discipline,  and  of  a  stricter  morality, 


17  Gregory  VII.  (Hildebrand)  succeeded  Alexander  II.  in  the 
Papal  chair  1073.  He  virtually  governed  the  Church  during  the 
time  of  his  predecessor,  and  was  indeed  the  real  author  of  the  de- 
cree of  Nicholas  II.,  1059,  by  which  the  power  of  nominating  and 
confirming  the  po^e  was  taken  from  the  German  emperors  and  vest- 
ed in  the  cardinals.  His  whole  life  was  devoted  to  aggrandizing  the 
power  of  the  Holy  See.  His  talents  were  great,  and  his  energy 
indomitable.  He  died  1085.  For  the  rise  and  progress  of  the  Pa- 
[jqI  power,  see  Hallam's  Middle  Ages,  Chap.  VIL,  and  Ranke's  His- 
tory of  the  Popes. 

The  Papal  power  was  at  its  height  from  the  time  of  Innocent 
in.,  1194,  to  that  of  Boniface  VIII.,  1294,  after  which  it  sensibly 
Jerlined 


Civil IZATION    IN    MODERN    EOROPB.  147 

wus  severely  felt  and  cried  out  for  with  a  lea]  that  would  not 
he  said  nay.  About  this  time  Robert  De  Moleme  established 
liis  severe  rule  at  Citeaux ;  about  the  same  time  nourished  St 
Norbert,  and  the  reform  of  the  canons,  the  reform  of  Cluny 
and,  at  last,  tho  great  reform  of  St.  Bernard.  A  general  fer 
mentation  reigned  within  the  monasteries :  the  old  monks  did 
not  like  this  ;  in  defending  themselves,  they  called  these  re- 
forms an  attack  upon  their  liberty ;  pleaded  the  necessity  of 
conforming  to  the  manners  of  the  times,  that  it  was  impossible 
*o  return  to  the  discipline  of  the  primitive  Church,  and  treat- 
ed all  these  reformers  as  madmen,  as  enthusiasts,  as  tyrants. 
Dip  into  the  history  of  Normandy,  by  Ordericue  Vitalius,  and 
you  will  meet  with  these  complaints  at  almost  every  page. 

All  this  seemed  greatly  in  favor  of  the  Church,  of  its  unity, 
and  of  its  power.  While,  however,  the  popes  of  Rome  sought 
to  usurp  the  government  of  the  world,  while  the  monasteries 
enforced  a  better  code  of  morals  and  a  severer  form  of  dis- 
cipline, a  few  mighty,  though  solitary  individuals  protested  in 
favor  of  human  reason,  and  asserted  its  claim  to  be  heard,  its 
right  to  be  consulted,  in  the  formation  of  man's  opinions.  The 
greater  part  of  these  philosophers  forbore  to  attack  common- 
ly received  opinions — I  mean  religious  creeds  ;  all  they  claim- 
ed for  reason  was  the  right  to  be  heard — all  they  declared 
was,  that  she  had  the  right  to  try  these  truths  by  her  own  tests, 
and  that  it  was  not  enough  that  they  should  be  merely  affirm- 
ed by  authority.  John  Erigena,  or  John  Scotus,  as  he  is 
more  frequently  called,  Roscelin,  Abelard,  and  others,  becamo 
the  noble  interpreters  of  individual  reason,  when  it  now  be- 
gan to  claim  its  lawful  inheritance.  It  was  the  teaching  and 
writings  of  these  giants  of  their  days  that  first  put  in  motion 
that  desire  for  intellectual  liberty,  which  kept  pace  with  the 
reform  of  Gregory  VII.,  and  St.  Bernard.  If  we  examine  the 
general  character  of  this  movement  of  mind,  we  shall  find 
that  it  sought  not  a  change  of  opinion,  that  it  did  not  array 
itself  against  the  received  system  of  faith  ;  but  that  it  simply 
advocated  the  right  of  reason  to  work  for  itself — in  short,  the 
Tight  of  free  inquiry. 

The  scholars  of  Abelard,  as  he  himself  tel!  us,  in  his  In- 
troduction to  Theology,  requested  him  to  give  them  "  some 
philosophical  arguments,  such  as  were    fit  to   satisfy  their 
minds  ;  begged  that  he  would  instruct  them,  not  merely  to  re 
peat  what  lie  taught  them,  but  to  understand  it ;  for  no  one  car 


148  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

believe  that  which  he  does  not  comprehend,  and  it  is  absurd  to 
set  out  to  preacn  to  others  concerning  things  which  neither 
those  who  teach  nor  those  who  learn  can  understand.  What 
other  end  can  the  study  of  philosophy  have,  if  not  to  lead  us 
to  a  knowledge  of  God,  to  which  all  studies  should  be  subor 
dinate  1  For  what  purpose  is  the  reading  of  profane  authors 
and  of  books  which  treat  of  worldly  affairs,  permitted  to  be- 
lievers, if  not  to  enable  them  to  understand  the  truths  of  the 
Holy  Scriptures,  and  to  give  them  the  abilities  necessary  to 
defend  them  1  It  is  above  all  things  desirable  for  this  pur- 
pose, that  we  should  strengthen  one  another  with  all  the  pow- 
ers of  reason ;  so  that  in  questions  so  difficult  and  complica- 
ted as  those  which  form  the  object  of  Christian  faith,  you  may 
be  able  to  hinder  the  subtilties  of  its  enemies  from  too  easily 
corrupting  its  purity." 

The  importance  of  this  first  attempt  after  liberty,  or  this  re 
birth  of  the  spirit  of  free  inquiry,  was  not  long  in  making  it- 
self felt.  Though  busied  with  its  own  reform,  the  Church 
soon  took  the  alarm,  and  at  once  declared  war  against  these 
new  reformers,  whose  methods  gave  it  more  reason  to  fear 
than  their  doctrines.  This  clamor  of  human  reason  was  the 
/grand  circumstance  which  burst  forth  at  the  close  of  the 
/  eleventh  and  beginning  of  the  twelfth  centuries,  just  at  the 
time  when  the  Church  was  establishing  its  theocratic  and  mo- 
nastic form.  At  this  epoch,  a  serious  struggle  for  the  first 
time  broke  out  between  the  clergy  and  the  advocates  of  free 
inquiry.  The  quarrels  of  Abelard  and  St.  Bernard,  the  coun- 
cils of  Soissons  and  Sens,  at  which  Abelard  was  condemned, 
were  nothing  more  than  the  expression  of  this  fact,  which 
holds  so  important  a  place  in  the  history  of  modern  civiliza- 
tion. It  was  the  principal  occurrence  which  affected  the 
Church  in  the  twelfth  century ;  the  point  at  which  we  will, 
for  the  present,  take  leave  of  it. 
/^But  at  this  same  instant  another  power  was  put  in  motion, 
which,  though  altogether  of  a  different  character,  was  per- 
haps one  of  the  most  interesting  and  important  in  the  pro- 
gress of  society  during  the  middle  ages^ — I  mean  the  institu- 
tion of  free  cities  and  boroughs  ;  or  what  is  called  the  enfran- 
chisement of  the  commons.  How  strange  is  the  inconsisten- 
cy of  grossness  and  ignorance  !  If  it  had  been  told  to  these 
early  citizens  who  vindicated  their  liberties  with  such  enthu- 
siasm, that  there  were  certain  men  who  cried  out  for  the 
rights  of  human  reason,  the  right  of  free  inquiry,  men  who-r 


V) 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN     BUROPK.  IP.) 

the  Church  regarded  as  heretics,  they  would  have  stoned  o/ 
burned  them  on  the  spot.  Abelard  and  his  friends  more  tli;ti\ 
once  ran  the  risk  of  suffering  this  kind  of  martyrdom.  On  the 
other  hand,  these  same  philosophers,  who  were  so  bold  in 
their  demands  for  the  privileges  of  reason,  spoke  of  the  en- 
franchisement of  the  commons  as  an  abominable  revolution 
calculated  to  destroy  civil  society.  Between  the  movement 
of  philosophy  and  the  movement  of  the  commons — between 
political  liberty  and  the  liberty  of  the  human  mind — a  war 
seemed  to  be  declared ;  and  it  has  required  ages  to  reconcile 
these  two  powers,  and  to  make  them  understand  that  their 
interests  are  the  same.  Jn  the  twelfth  century  they  had  no- 
thing in  common,  as  we  shall  more  fully  see  in  the  next  lec- 
ture, which  will  be  devoted  to  the  formation  of  free  cities  und 
municipal  corporations 


LECTURE   VII 

RISE    OF    FREE    CITIES. 

We  have  already,  in  our  previous  lectures,  brought  down 
the  history  of  the  two  first  great  elements  of  modern  civili- 
zation, the  feudal  system  and  the  Church,  to  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury. The  third  of  these  fundamental  elements — that  of  the 
commons,  or  free  corporate  cities — will  form  the  subject  of 
the  present,  and  I  propose  to  limit  it  to  '.he  SLine  period  as 
that  occupied  by  the  other  two. 


It  is  necessary,  however,  that  I  should  notice,  on  entering 
upon  this  subject,  a  difference  which  exists  between  corporate 
cities  and  the  feudal  system  and  the  Church.  The  two  latter 
although  they  increased  in  influence,  and  were  subject  to 
many  changes,  yet  show  themselves  as  completed,  as  having 
put  on  a  definite  form,  between  the  fifth  and  the  twelfth  cen- 
turies— we  see  their  rise,  growth,  and  maturity.  Not  so 
the  free  cities.  It  is  not  till  towards  the  close  of  this  period 
— till  the  eleventh  and  twelfth  centuries — that  corporate  cities 
make  any  figure  in  history.  Not  that  I  mean  to  assert  that 
their  previous  history  does  not  merit  attention  ;  not  that  there 
are  not  evident  traces  of  their  existence  before  this  period  ; 
all  I  would  observe  is,  that  they  did  not,  previously  to  the 
eleventh  century,  perform  any  important  part  in  the  great  dra- 
ma of  the  world,  as  connected  with  modern  civilization 
Again,  with  regard  to  the  feudal  system  and  the  Church ;  wo 
nave  seen  them,  between  the  fifth  century  and  the  twelfth, 
act  with  power  upon  the  social  system ;  we  have  seen  the 
effects  they  produced  ;  by  regarding  them  as  two  great  prin- 
ciples, we  have  arrived,  by  way  of  induction,  by  way  of  con- 
jecture, at  certain  results  which  we  have  verified  by  referring 
to  facts  themselves.     This,  however,  we  cannot  do  with  re- 

drard  to  corporations.     We  only  see  these  in  their  childhood. 
I  can  scarcely  go  further  to-day  than  inquire  into  their  causes, 


CIVILISATION    IN    KODLAM    BUROPB.  J  5  1 

their  origin  ;  and  the  few  observations  I  shall  make  respecting 
their  ellects — respecting  the  influence  of  corporate  cities  upon 
modern  civilization,  will  be  rather  a  foretelling  of  what  after- 
wards came  to  pass,  than  a  recounting  of  what  actually  took 
place.  I  cannot,  at  this  period,  call  in  the  testimony  of  known 
and  contemporary  events,  because  it  was  not  till  between  the"\ 
twelfth  and  fifteenth  centuries  that  corporations  attained  any  J 
degree  of  perfection  and  influence,  that  these  institutions  boro 
any  fruit,  and  that  we  can  verify  our  assertions  by  history.  I 
mention  this  difference  of  situation,  in  order  to  forewarn  you 
o(  that  which  you  may  find  incomplete  and  premature  i.i  the 
sketch  I  am  about  to  give  you. 

Let  us  suppose  that  in  the  year  1789,  at  the  commencement 
of  the  terrible  regeneration  of  France,  a  burgess  of  the  twelfth 
century  had  risen  from  his  grave,  and  made  his  appearance 
among  us,  and  some  one  had  put  into  his  hands  (for  we  will 
suppose  he  could  read)  one  of  those  spirit-stirring  pamphlets 
which  caused  so  much  excitement,  for  instance,  that  of  M. 
Sieves,  What  is  the  third  estate?  ("  Qu'cst-ce  que  le  tiers 
etat  ?")  If,  in  looking  at  this,  he  had  met  the  following  pas- 
sage, which  forms  the  basis  of  the  pamphlet : — "  The  third 
ie  is  the  French  nation  without  the  nobility  and  clergy  :" 
what,  let  me  ask,  would  be  the  impression  such  a  sentence 
would  make  on  this  burgess's  mind  ?  Is  it  probable  that  he 
would  understand  it  ?  No  :  he  would  not  be  able  to  compre- 
hend the  meaning  of  the  words, "  the  French  nation,"  because 
they  remind  him  of  no  facts  or  ciicumstances  with  which  he 
would  be  acquainted,  but  represent  a  state  of  things  to  the 
existence  of  which  he  is  an  entire  stranger  ;  but  if  he  did  un- 
derstand the  phrase,  and  had  a  clear  apprehension  that  the 
absolute  sovereignty  was  lodged  in  the  third  estate,  it  is  be- 
yond a  question  that  he  would  characterize  such  a  proposition 
as  almost  absurd  and  impious,  so  utterly  at  variance  would  it 
he  with  his  feelings  and  his  ideas  of  things — so  contradic- 
tory to  the  experience  and  observation  of  his  whole  life. 

If  we  now  suppose  the  astonished  burgess  to  be  introduced 
into  any  one  of  the  free  cities  of  France  which  had  existed 
ir.  his  time — say  Rheims,  or  Beauvais,  or  Laon,  or  Noyon 
— we  shall  see  him  still  more  antonished  and  puzzled  :  he  en- 
ters the  town,  he  sees  no  towers,  ramparts,  militia,  or  any  ) 
jlher  kind  of  defence ;  everything  exposed,  everything  an  easy 
t^joil  to  the  first  depredator,  the  town  ready  to  fall  into  the 
hujids  of  the  first  assailant.     The  burgess  is  alarmed  at  the 


152  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

Insecurity  of  this  free  city,  which  he  finds  k  so  deiViiselesfc 
and  unprotected  a  condition.  He  then  proceeds  into  the  heart 
of  the  town  ;  he  inquires  how  things  are  going  on,  what  is 
the  nature  of  its  government,  and  the  character  of  its  inhabi- 
tants. He  learns  that  there  is  an  authority  not  resident  withfn 
its  walls,  which  imposes  whatever  taxes  it  pleases  to  levy  upc  n 
them  without  their  consent ;  which  requires  them  to  keep  up 
a  militia,  and  to  serve  in  the  army  without  their  inclination 
being  consulted.  They  talk  to  him  about  the  magistrates, 
about  the  mayor  and  aldermen,  and  he  is  obliged  to  hear  that 
the  burgesses  have  nothing  to  do  with  their  nomination.  He 
learns  that  the  municipal  government  is  not  conducted  by  the 
burgesses,  but  that  a  servant  of  the  king,  a  steward  living  at 
a  distance,  has  the  sole  management  of  their  affairs.  In  ad- 
dition to  this,  he  is  informed  that  they  are  prohibited  from  as- 
sembling together  to  take  into  consideration  matters  imme- 
diately concerning  themselves,  that  the  church  bells  have 
ceased  to  announce  public  meetings  for  such  purposes.  The 
burgess  of  the  twelfth  century  is  struck  dumb  with  confusion 
— a  moment  since  he  was  amazed  at  the  greatness,  the  im- 
portance, the  vast  superiority  which  the  "  tiers  etat"  so  vaunt- 
ingly  arrogated  to  itself;  but  now,  upon  examination,  he  finds 
them  deprived  of  all  civic  rights,  and  in  a  state  of  thraldom 
and  degradation  far  more  intolerable  than  he  had  ever  before 
witnessed.  He  passes  suddenly  from  one  extreme  to  the 
other,  from  the  spectacle  of  a  corporation  exercising  sovereign 
power  to  a  corporation  without  any  power  at  all :  how  is  it 
possible  that  he  should  understand  this,  or  be  able  to  recon- 
cile it  ?  his  head  must  be  turned,  and  his  faculties  lost  in  won- 
der and  confusion. 

Now,  let  us  burgesses  of  the  nineteenth  century  imagine, 
in  our  turn,  that  we  are  transported  back  into  the  twelfth.  A 
twofold  appearance,  but  exactly  reversed,  presents  itself  to  us 
in  a  precisely  similar  manner.  If  we  regard  the  affairs  of 
the  public  in  general — the  state,  the  government,  the  country, 
the  nation  at  large,  we  shall  neither  see  nor  hear  anything  of 
burgesses ;  they  were  mere  ciphers — of  no  importance  01 
consideration  whatever.  Not  only  so,  but  if  we  would  know 
in  what  estimation  they  held  themselves  as  a  body,  what 
weight,  what  influence  they  attached  to  themselves  with  ra« 
spect  to  their  relations  towards  the  government  of  France  as  a 
nation  we  shall  receive  a  reply  to  our  inquiry  in  language  ex 


r\\  ii.i/.v  iion    in    MODERN    MFEOPft. 

i?o  of  deep  humility  and  timidity;  while  wc  shall  fi  ml 
their  masters,  the  lords,  from  whom  they  subsequent  y  wrested 
their  franchises,  treating  them,  at  least  as  far  as  words  go 
with  a  pride  and  scorn  truly  amazing ;  yet  these  indignities 
do  not  appear,  in  the  slightest  degree,  to  provoke  or  astonish 
their  submissive  vassals. 

But  let  us  enter  one  of  these  free  cities,  and  see  what  is  X 
^oing  on  within  it.     Here  things  take  quite  another  turn :  we  J 
find  ourselves  in  a  fortified  town,  defended  by  armed  burgess-/ 
es.     These  burgesses  fix  their  own  taxes,  elect  their  owrf) 
magistrates,  have  their  own  courts  of  judicature,  their  own 
public  assemblies  for  deliberating  upon  public  measures,  from 
which  none  are  excluded.     They  make  war  at  their  own  ex 
pense,  even  against  their  suzerain — maintain  their  own  militia. 
In  short,  they  govern  themselves,  they  are  sovereigns. 

Here  we  have  a  similar  contrast  to  that  which  made  France, 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  so  perplexing  to  the  burgess  of  the 
twelfth ;  the  scenes  only  are  changed.  In  the  present  daj 
the  burgesses,  in  a  national  point  of  view,  are  everything — 
municipalities  nothing;  formerly  corporations  were  every-* 
thing,  while  the  burgesses,  as  respects  the  nation,  were  no- 
thing. From  this  it  will  appear  evident  that  many  things7 
many  extraordinary  events,  and  even  many  revolutions,  must 
have  happened  between  the  twelfth  and  the  fifteenth  centu- 
ries, in  order  to  bring  about  so  great  a  change  as  that  which 
lias  taken  place  in  the  social  condition  of  this  class  of  so- 
ciety. But  however  vast  this  change,  there  can  be  no  doubt 
but  that  the  commons,  the  third  estate  of  1789,  politically 
speaking,  are  the  descendants,  the  heirs  of  the  free  towns  of 
the  twelfth  century.  And  the  present  hauchty,  ambitious 
French  nation,  which  aspires  so  high,  which  proclaims  so 
pompously  its  sovereignty,  and  pretends  not  only  to  have  re-  / 
generated  and  to  govern  itself,  but  to  regenerate  and  rule  the ' 
whole  world,  is  indisputably  descended  from  those  very  free 
towns  which  revolted  in  the  twelfth  century — with  trreat  spirit 
and  courage  it  must  be  allowed,  but  with  no  nobler  object 
than  that  of  escaping  to  some  remote  corner  of  the  land  from 
the  vexatious  tyranny  of  a  few  nobles. 

It  would  be  in  vain  to  expect  that  the  condition  of  the  free 
towns  in  the  twelfth  century  will  reveal  the  causes  of  a  meta« 
norphosis  such  as  this,  which  resulted  from  a  series  of  eventd 


( 


154  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

hat  took  [/lace  between  the  twelfth  and  eighteenth  centuries 
It  is  in  these  events  that  we  shall  discover  the  causes  of  this 
change  as  we  go  on.  Nevertheless,  the  origin  of  the  *  tiers 
etat"  has  played  a  striking  part  in  its  history ;  and  though  wc 
may  not  be  able  therein  to  trace  out  the  whole  secret  of  ite 
destiny,  we  shall,  at  least,  there  meet  with  the  seeds  of  it ; 
that  which  it  was  at  first,  again  occurs  in  that  which  it  is  be- 
come, and  this  to  a  much  greater  extent  than  might  be  pre- 
sumed from  appearances.  A  sketch,  however  imperfect,  of  the 
state  of  the  free  cities  in  the  twelfth  century,  will,  I  think, 
convince  you  of  this  fact. 


In  order  to  understand  the  condition  of  the  free  cities  ni 
that  time  properly,  it  is  necessary  to  consider  them  in  two 
points  of  view.     There  are  two  great  questions  to  be  deter- 

/  mined :  first,  that  of  the  enfranchisement  of  the  commons,  or 
cities — that  is  to  say,  how  this  revolution  was  brought  about, 
what  were  its  causes,  what  alteration  it  effected  in  the  con- 
dition of  the  burgesses,  what  in  that  of  society  in  general,  and 
in  that  of  all  the  other  orders  of  the  state.  The  second  ques- 
tion relates  to  the  government  of  the  free  cities,  the  internal 
[  condition  of  the  enfranchised  towns,  with  reference  to  the 
b'jrgesses  residing  within  them,  the  principles,  forms,  and 
customs  that  prevailed  among  them. 

From  these  two  sources — namely,  the  change  introduced 
into  the  social  position  of  the  burgesses,  on  the  one  hand,  and 
from  the  internal  government,  by  their  municipal  economy,  on 
the  other,  has  flowed  all  their  influence  upon  modern  civiliza- 
tion. All  the  circumstances  that  can  be  traced  to  their  in- 
fluence, may  be  referred  to  one  of  those  two  causes.  As 
Boon,  then,  as  wre  thoroughly  understand,  and  can  satisfac- 
torily account  for,  the  enfranchisement  of  the  free  cities  on 
the  one  hand,  and  the  formation  of  their  government  on  the 
other,  we  shall  be  in  possession  of  the  two  keys  to  their  hi$' 
tory.  In  conclusion,  I  shall  say  a  few  words  on  the  great  di- 
versity of  conditions  in  the  free  cities  of  Europe.  The  facts 
which  I  am  about  to  lay  before  you  are  not  to  be  applied  in- 
discriminately to  all  the  free  cities  of  the  twelfth  century — to 
those  of  Italy,  Spain,  England,  and  France  alike ;  many  of 
them  undoubtedly  were  nearly  the  same  in  them  all,  but  the 
noints  of  difierer.ee  are  great  and  important.  I  shall  point 
them  out  to  j*our  notice  us  I  proceed.     We  shall  meet  witr 


en  i'  :/.v  i  KOM    in  0PF  I  •■*."> 

them  ■gain  at  a  more  advanced  itsge  oi'  out  civilization,  and 

can  then  examine,  them  more  closely. 

la  acquainting  ourselves  with  the  history  of  the  enfran- 
chisement of  the  free  towns,  we  must  remember  what  was  tho 
Ktate  of  those  towns  between  the  fifth  and  eleventh  centuries 
— from  the  fall  of  the  Roman  empire  to  the  time  when  muni- 
cipal revolution  commenced.  Here,  I  repeat,  the  differences 
are  striking :  the  condition  of  the  towns  varied  amazingly  in 
the  difierent  countries  of  Europe ;  still  there  arc  some  facts 
which  may  be  regarded  as  nearly  common  to  them  all,  and  jt 
is  to  these  that  I  shall  confine  my  observatii  us.  When  I 
have  gone  through  these,  I  shall  say  a  few  words  more  par- 
ticularly respecting  the  free  towns  of  France,  and  especially 
those  of  the  north,  beyond  the  Rhone  and  the  Loire;  these 
will  form  prominent  figures  in  the  sketch  I  am  about  to  make. 

After  the  fall  of  the  Roman  empire,  between  the  fifth  and\ 
tenth  centuries,  the  towns  were  neither  in  a  state  of  servitude/ 
nor  freedom.  We  here  again  run  the  same  risk  of  error  in 
the  employment  of  words,  that  1  spoke  to  you  of  in  a  pre- 
vious lecture  in  describing  the  character  of  men  and  events. 
When  a  society  has  lasted  a  considerable  time,  and  its  lan- 
guage also,  its  words  acquire  a  complete,  a  determinate,  a  pre- 
a  sort  of  legal  official  signification.  Time  has  introduced 
into  the  signification  of  every  term  a  thousand  ideas,  which 
are  awakened  within  us  every  time  we  hear  it  pronounced, 
but  which,  as  they  do  not  all  bear  the  same  date,  are  not  all 
suitable  at  the  same  time.  The  terms  "  servitude  and  freedom" 
for  example,  recall  to  our  minds  ideas  far  more  precise  and 
definite  than  the  facts  of  the  eighth,  ninth,  or  tenth  centuries 
to  which  they  relate.  If  we  say  that  the  towns  in  the  eighth 
century  were  in  a  state  of  freedom,  we  say  by  far  too  much  : 
tve  attach  now  to  the  word  "freedom"  a  signification  which 
does  not  represent  the  fact  of  the  eighth  century.  We  shall 
fall  into  the  same  error,  if  we  say  that  the  towns  were  in  a 
state  of  servitude  ;  for  this  term  implies  a  state  of  things  very 
difierent  from  the  circumstances  of  the  municipal  towns  of 
those  days.  I  say  again,  then,  that  the  towns  were  neither\ 
in  a  state  of  freedom  nor  servitude  :  they  suffered  all  the  evila  / 
(o  which  weakness  is  liable  :  they  were  a  prey  to  the  con-  / 
tinual  depredations,  rapacity,  and  violence  of  the  strong :  yet, 
notwithstanding  these  horrid  disorders,  their  impoverished  and 


15C  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

diminishing  population,  the  towns  had,  and  still  maintained,  a 
(certain  degree  of  importance  :  in  most  of  them  there  was  a 
j clergyman,  a  bishop  who  exercised  great  authority,  who  pos- 
sessed great  influence  over  the  people,  served  as  a  tie  be- 
/  tween  them  and  their  conquerors,  thus  maintaining  the  city  in 
a  sort  of  independence,  by  throwing  over  it  the  protecting 
\  shield  of  religion.     Besides  this,  there  were  still  left  in  the 
)  towns  some  valuable  fragments  of  Roman  institutions.     We 
are  indebted  to  the  careful  researches  of  MM.  de  Savigny, 
Hullmann,  Mdle.  de  Lezardieie,  &c,  for  having  furnished  us 
with  many  circumstances  of  this  nature.     We  hear  often,  at 
this  period,  of  the  convocation  of  the  senate,  of  the  curiae,  of 
public  assemblies,  of  municipal  magistrates.     Matters  of  po- 
lice, wills,  donations,  and  a  multitude  of  civil  transactions, 
were  concluded  in  the  curim  by  the  magistrates,  in  the  same 
way  that  they  had  previously  been  done  under  the   Roman 
municipal  government. 

I      These  remains  of  urban  activity  and  freedom  were  gradual- 
/   ly  disappearing,  it  is  true,  from  day  to  day.     Barbarism  and 
disorder,  evils  always  increasing,  accelerated  depopulation. 
The  establishment  of  the  lords  of  the  country  in  the  provin- 
ce3,  and  the  rising  preponderance  of  agricultural  life,  became 
another  cause  of  the  decline  of  the  cities.     The  bishops 
themselves,  after  they  had  incorporated  themselves  into  the 
feudal  frame,  attached  much  less  importance  to  their  munici- 
pal life.     Finally,  upon  the  triumph  of  the  feudal  system,  the 
/towns,  without  falling  into  the  slavery  of  the  agriculturists, 
(   were  entirely  subjected  to  the  control  of  a  lord,  were  includ- 
v  ed  in  some  fief,  and  lost,  by  this  title,  somewhat  of  the  inde- 
pendence which  still  remained  to  them,  and  which,  indeed, 
they  had  continued  to  possess,  oven  in  the  most  barbarous 
times — even  in  the  first  centuries  of  invasion.     So  that  from 
/thd  fifth  century  up  to  the  time  of  the  complete  organization 
(    of  the  feudal  system,  the  state  of  the  towns  was  continually 
Vgetting  worse. 

When  once,  however,  the  feudal  system  was  fairly  estab 
I i  shed,  when  every  man  had  taken  his  place,  and  became 
fixed  as  it  were  to  the  soil,  when  the  wandering  life  had  en- 
tirely ceased,  the  towns  again  assumed  some  importance — a 
new  activity  began  to  display  itself  within  them.  This  is  not 
suiprising.     Human  activity,  as  we  all  know,  is  like  the  fei 


(  IVII.I/A TION     IN    MODERN     KUROFI.  157 

rility  of  the  soil, — when  the  disturbing  process  is  over,  it  ro- 
appears  and  makes  all  to  grow  and  blossom  ;  wherever  there 
appears  the  least  glimmering  of  peace  and  order  the  liopes  oi 
man  are  excited,  and  with  his  hopes  his  industry.  This  is 
what  took  place  in  the  cities.  No  sooner  was  society  a  littlu 
settled  under  the  feudal  system,  than  the  proprietors  of  fiefs 
began  to  feel  new  wants,  and  to  acquire  a  certain  degree  of 
taste  for  improvement  and  melioration  ;  this  gave  rise  to  some 
little  commerce  and  industry  in  the  towns  of  their  domains; 
wealth  and  population  increased  within  them, — slowly  for  ceiv 
tain,  but  still  they  increased.  Among  other  circumstances 
which  aided  in  bringing  this  about,  there  is  one  which,  in  my 
opinion,  has  not  been  sufficiently  noticed, — I  mean  the  asy-j^^K* 
lum,  the  protection  which  the  churches  afforded  to  fugitives' 
Before  the  free  towns  were  constituted,  before  they  were  in  a 
condition  by  their  power,  their  fortifications,  to  offer  an  asylum 
to  the  desolate  population  of  the  country,  when  there  was  no 
place  of  safety  for  them  but  the  church,  this  circumstance 
alone  was  sufficient  to  draw  into  the  cities  many  unfortunate 
persons  and  fugitives.  These  sought  refuge  either  in  the 
church  itself  or  within  its  precincts ;  it  was  not  merely  the 
lower  orders,  such  as  serfs,  villains,  and  so  on,  that  sought 
this  protection,  but  frequently  men  of  considerable  rank  and 
wealth,  who  might  chance  to  be  proscribed.  The  chronicles 
of  the  times  are  full  of  examples  of  this  kind.  We  find  men 
.ately  powerful,  upon  being  attacked  by  some  more  powerful 
neighbor,  or  by  the  king  himself,  abandoning  their  dwellings, 
and  carrying  away  all  the  property  they  could  rake  together, 
entering  into  some  city,  and  placing  themselves  under  the  pro- 
tection of  a  church :  they  became  citizens.  Refugees  of  this 
sort  had,  in  my  opinion,  a  considerable  influence  upon  the  pro- 
gress of  the  cities ;  they  introduced  into  them,  besides  their 
wealth,  elements  of  a  population  superior  to  the  great  mass 
of  their  inhabitants.  We  know,  moreover,  that  when  once  ai^ 
assemblage  somewhat  considerable  is  formed  in  any  place 
that  other  persons  naturally  flock  to  it ;  perhaps  from  finding 
it  a  place  of  greater  security,  or  perhaps  from  that  sociable 
disposition  of  our  nature  which  never  abandons  us.1-8 

"Upon  the  establishment  of  the  feudal  system,  "  every  town, 
except  within  the  royal  domains,  was  subject  to  some  lord.  la 
episcopal  cities,  the*  bishop  possessed  a  considerable  authority, 
and  in  many  there  was  a  class  of  resident  nobility.    It  is  probable 


158  GENERAL    HISTORY    0/ 

By  the  concurrence  of  all  these  causes,  the  cities  regained 
a  small  portion  of  power  as  soon  as  the  feudal  system  be- 
came somewhat  settled.  But  the  security  of  the  citizens  was 
not  restored  to  an  equal  extent.  The  roving,  wandering  life 
had,  it  is  true,  ir  a  great  measure  ceased,  but  to  the  conquer- 
ors, to  the  new  proprietors  of  the  soil,  this  roving  life  was  one 
great  means  of  gratifying  their  passions.  When  they  desired 
to  pillage,  they  made  an  excursion,  they  went  afar  to  seek  a 
better  fortune,  another  domain.  When  they  became  more 
s€tJed,  when  they  considered  it  necessary  to  renounce  their 
predatory  expeditions,  the  same  passions,  the  same  gross  de- 
sires, still  remained  in  full  force.  But  the  weight  of  these 
now  fell  upon  those  whom  they  found  ready  at  hand,  upon  the 
powerful  of  the  world,  upon  the  cities.  Instead  of  going  afai 
to  pillage,  they  pillaged  what  was  near.  The  exactions  of 
the  proprietors  of  fiefs  upon  the  burgesses  were  redoubled  at 
/the  end  of  the  tenth  century.  Whenever  the  lord  of  the  do- 
main, by  which  a  city  was  girt,  felt  a  desire  to  increase  his 
wealth,  he  gratified  his  avarice  at  the  expense  of  the  citizens. 
It  was  more  particularly  at  this  period  that  the  citizens  com- 
plained of  the  total  want  of  commercial  security.  Merchants, 
on  returning  from  their  trading  rounds,  could  not,  with  safety, 
return  to  their  city.  Every  avenue  was  taken  possession  of 
by  the  lord  of  the  domain  and  his  vassals.  The  moment  in 
f  which  industry  commenced  its  career,  was  precisely  that  in 
Vjvhich  security  was  most  wanting.  Nothing  is  more  galling 
Ao  an  active  spirit,  than  to  be  deprived  of  the  long-anticipated 
pleasure  of  enjoying  the  fruits  of  his  industry.  When  robbed 
of  this,  he  is  far  more  irritated  and  vexed  than  when  made  to 
sufTer  in  a  state  of  being  fixed  and  monotonous,  than  when 
that  which  is  torn  from  him  is  not  the  fruit  of  his  own  ac- 

Ctivity,  has  not  excited  in  him  all  the  joys  of  hope.  There  is 
in  the  progressive  movement,  which  elevates  a  man  of  a  popu- 
lation towards  a  new  fortune,  a  spirit  of  resistance  against 


that  the  proportion  of  freemen  was  always  greater  than  in  the 
country;  some  sort  of  retail  trade,  and  even  of  manufacture,  must 
have  existed  in  the  rudest  of  the  middle  ages,  and  consequently 
some  little  capital  was  required  for  their  exercise.  Nor  was  it  so 
easy  to  oppress  a  collected  body,  as  the  scattered  and  dispirited 
cultivators  of  the  soil.  Probably,  therefore,  the  condition  of  the 
towns  was  at  all  times  by  far  the  more  tolerable  servitude." — Hal- 
lam,  Middle  Ages,  Chap.  ii.  pt.  2 


t  l\  II.I/.ATHIN     1\     |  [59 

iniquity  ;unl  vmlnu-o   much  more  energetic  than  in  any  othci 
situation. 

Such,  thou,  was  the  state  of  cities  during  the  course  o(  the 
tenth  century.     They  possessed  more  strength,  more  import- 
ance, more  wealth,  more  interests  to  defend.     At  the  tame 
time,  it  became  moro  necessary  than  ever  to  defend  them,  for 
these  interests,  their  wealth  and  their  strength,  became  ob- 
jects of  desire  to  the  nobles.     With  the  means  of  resistance?) 
the  danger  and  difliculty  increased  also.     Besides,  the  feudal 
in  gave  to  all  connected  with  it  a  perpetual  example  of 
resistance  ;  the  idea  of  an  organized  energetic  government, 
capable  of  keeping  society  in  order  and  regularity  by  its  inter- 
\  mi  ion,  had  never  presented  itself  to  the  spirits  of  that  period. 
On  the  contrary,  there  was  a  perpetual  recurrence  of  indivi-^) 
dual  will,  refusing  to  submit  to  authority.     Such  was  the  con- 
duct of  the  major  part  of  the  holders  of  fiefs  towards  their 
suzerains,  of  the  small  proprietors  of  land  to  the  greater ;  so 
that  at  the  very  time  when  the  cities  were  oppressed  and  tor- 
mented, at  the  moment  when  they  had  new  and  greater  inter- 
ests to  sustain,  they  had  before  their  eyes  a  continual  lesson 
of  insurrection.     The  feudal  system  rendered  this  service  to\ 
mankind — it  lias  constantly  exhibited  individual  will,  display-J 
ing  itself  in  all  its  power  and  energy.    The  lesson  prospered ; 
in  spite  of  their  weakness,  in  spite  of  the  prodigious  inequality  \ 
which  existed  between  them  and  the  great  proprietors,  their 
lords,  the  cities  everywhere  broke  out  into  rebellion  against  / 
them.  ^ 

It  is  difiicult  to  fix  a  precise  date  to  this  great  event — thisX 
general  insurrection  of  the  cities.     The  commencement  of   ) 
iheir  enfranchisement  is  usually  placed  at  the  beginning  of/ 
the  eleventh  century.     But  in  all  great  events,  how  many  un- 
known and  disastrous  efforts  must  have  been  made,  before  the 
successful  one  !     Providence,  upon  all  occasions,  in  order  to" 
accomplish  its  designs,  is  prodigal  of  courage,  virtues,  sacri- 
fices— finally,  of  man ;  and  it  is  only  after  a  vast  number  of 
unknown  attempts  apparently  lost,  after  a  host  of  noble  hearts 
have  fallen  into  despair — convinced  that  their  cause  was  lost 
— that  it  triumphs.     Such,  no  doubt,  was  the  case  in  the 
struggle  of  the  free  cities.     Doubtless  in  the  eighth,  ninth, 
and  tenth  centuries  there  were  many  attempts  at  resistance- 
.nany  eflbrts  made  for  freedom  : — many  a^empts  to  escape 


160  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

from  bondage,  which  not  only  were  unsuccessful,  but  the  re 
membrance  of  which,  from  their  ill  success,  has  remained 
without  glory.  Still  we  may  rest  assured  that  these  attempts 
had  a  vast  influence  upon  succeeding  events  :  they  kept  alive 
and  maintained  the  spirit  of  liberty — they  prepared  the  greit 
insurrection  of  the  eleventh  century. 

I  say  insurrection,  and  I  say  it  advisedly.  The  enfranchise- 
ment of  the  towns  or  communities  in  the  eleventh  century 
was  the  fruit  of  a  real  insurrection,  of  a  real  war — a  war  de- 
clared by  the  population  of  the  cities  against  their  lords.  The 
first  fact  which  we  always  meet  with  in  annals  of  this  nature, 
is  the  rising  of  the  burgesses,  who  seize  whatever  arms  they 
can  lay  their  hands  on ; — it  is  the  expulsion  of  the  people  of 
the  lord,  who  come  for  the  purpose  of  levying  contributions, 
some  extortion  ;  it  is  an  enterprise  against  the  neighboring 
castle  ; — such  is  always  the  character  of  the  war.  If  the  in- 
surrection fails,  what  docs  the  conqueror  instantly  do  ?  He 
orders  the  destruction  of  the  fortifications  erected  by  the 
citizens,  not  only  around  their  city,  but  also  around  each  dwell 
ing.  We  see  that  at  the  very  moment  of  confederation,  aftei 
having  promised  to  act  in  common,  after  having  taken,  in  com 
mon,  the  corporation  oath,  the  first  act  of  each  citizen  was  to 
put  his  own  house  in  a  state  of  resistance.  Some  towns,  the 
names  of  which  are  now  almost  forgotten,  the  little  commu- 
nity of  Vezelai,  in  Nevers,  for  example — sustained  against 
their  lord  a  long  and  obstinate  struggle.  At  length  victory  de- 
clared for  the  Abbot  of  Vezelai ;  upon  the  spot  he  ordered 
the  demolition  of  the  fortifications  of  the  houses  of  the  citi- 
zens ;  and  the  names  of  many  of  the  heroes,  whose  fortified 
houses  were  then  destroyed,  are  still  preserved. 
r  Let  us  enter  the  interior  of  these  habitations  of  our  ances- 
/  tors ;  let  us  examine  the  form  of  their  construction,  and  the 
I  mode  of  life  which  this  reveals  :  all  is  devoted  to  war,  every 
\  thing  is  impressed  With  its  character. 
/  The  construction  of  the  house  of  a  citizen  of  the  twelfth 
/  century,  so  far,  at  least,  as  we  can  now  obtain  an  idea  of  it, 
I  was  something  of  this  kind :  it  consisted  usually  of  three 
stories,  one  room  in  each  that  on  the  ground  floor  served  as 
a  general  eating  room  for  the  family  ;  the  first  story  was  much 
elevated  for  the  sake  of  security,  and  this  is  the  most  remark* 
able  circumstance  in  the  construction.  The  room  in  this 
btory  was  the  habitation  of  the  master  of  the  house  and  his 
wife.     The  house  was,  in  general,  flarfkej  with  an  angular 


UtTILlIATION    in    Moim:i;\    ki  koi-i:.  10! 

n>wer,  usually  square  :  another  symptom  <>f  war ;  anothei 
aicana  of  defence.    The  second  story  consisted  again  of  a 

binglfl  room  ;  its  use  is  not  known,  but  it  probably  served  for 
tbe  children  and  domestics  Above  ibis  in  most  bouses,  was 
i  small  platform,  evidently  intended  as  an  observatory  of 
wateb-tower.  Every  feature  of  tbe  building  bore  tbe  appear- 
ance of  war.  Tins  was  tbe  decided  characteristic,  tbe  true 
name  of  tne  movement,  which  wrought  out  tbe  freedom  of  the 
cities. 

After  a  war  has  continued  ■  certain  lime,  whatever  maybe 
the  belligerent  parties,  it  naturally  leads  to  a  peace.     The 
tieaties  of  peace  between  the  cities  and   their   adversaries 
were  so  many  charters.     These  charters  of  the  cities  were  \ 
so  many  positive  treaties  of  peace  between  the  burgesses  and  | 
their  lords. 

The  insurrection  was  general.     When  I  say  general,  I  do  J 
not  mean  that  there  was  any  concerted  plan,  that  there   was 
any  coalition  between  all  the  burgesses  of  a  country ;  nothing 
like  it  took  place.     But  the  situation  of  all  the  towns  being         s\m 
nearly  the  same,  they  all  were  liable  to  the  same  danger  ;  a  ^ 
prey  to  the  same  disasters.     Having  acquired  similar  means 
of  resistance  and  defence,  they  made  use  of  those  means  it 
nearly  the  same  time.  It  may  be  possible,  also,  that  the  forco 
of  example  did  something  ;  that  the  success  of  one  or  two 
communities  was  contagious.     Sometimes  the  charters  appear 
to  have  been  drawn  up  from  the  same  model ;  for  instance, 
that  of  Noyon  served  as  a  pattern  for  those  of  Beauvais,  St. 
Quentin,  and  others  ;  I  doubt,  however,  whether  example  had 
so  great  an  influence  as  is  generally  conjectured.     Communi- 
cation between  different  provinces  was  difficult  and  of  rare 
occurrence  ;  the  intelligence  conveyed  and  received  by  hear- 
Gay  and  general  report  was  vague  and  uncertain  ;  and  there  is 
much  reason  for  believing  that  the  insurrection  was  rathei 
the  result  of  a  similarity  of  situation  and  of  a  general  spon 
taneous  movement.     When  I  say  general,  I  wish  to  be  under  ^ 
stood  simply  as  saying  that  insurrections  took  place  every-; 
where  ;  they  did  not,  I  repeat,  spring  from  any  unanimous] 
concerted  movement :  all  was  particular,  local ;  each  commu 
nity  rebelled  on  it-!  own  account,  against  its  owir  lord,  uncon- 
nected with  any  ( tner  place. 

The  vicissitudes  of  the  struggle  were  great.     Not  only  did 


162  GENERAL    HISTORV     OF 

success  change  from  one  side  to  the  other,  tut  even  aitei 
peace  was  in  appearance  concluded,  after  the  charter  had  beeD 
solemnly  sworn  to  by  both  parties,  they  violated  and  eludeo 
its  articles  in  all  sorts  of  ways.  Kings  acted  a  prominent 
part  in  the  alternations  of  these  struggles.  I  shall  speak  of 
these  more  in  detail  when  I  come  to  royalty  itself.  Too 
much  has  probably  been  said  of  the  effects  of  royal  influence 
upon  the  struggles  of  the  people  for  freedom.  These  effect** 
have  been  often  contested,  sometimes  exaggerated,  and  in  my 
opinion,  sometimes  greatly  underrated.  I  shall  here  confine 
myself  to  the  assertion  that  royalty  was  often  called  upon  to 
interfere  in  these  contests,  sometimes  by  the  cities,  sometimes 
by  their  lords  ;  and  that  it  played  very  different  parts  ;  acting 
now  upon  one  principle,  and  soon  after  upon  another ;  that  it 
was  ever  changing  its  intentions,  its  designs,  and  its  conduct ; 
but  that,  taking  it  altogether,  it  did  much,  and  produced  a  great 
er  portion  of  good  than  of  evil. 

"*"  In  spite  of  all  these  vicissitudes,  notwithstanding  the  per- 
petual violation  of  charters  in  the  twelfth  century — the  free- 
dom of  the  cities  was  consummated.  Europe,  and  particular- 
ly France,  which,  during  a  whole  century,  had  abounded  in 
insurrections,  now  abounded  in  charters ;  cities  rejoiced  in 
them  with  more  or  less  security,  but  still  they  rejoiced ;  the 
event  succeeded,  and  the  right  was  acknowledged. 


Let  us  now  endeavor  to  ascertain  the  more  immediate  re- 
sults of  this  great  fact,  and  what  changes  it  produced  in  the 
situation  of  the  burgesses  as  regarded  society. 

And,  at  first,  as  regards  the  relations  of  the  burgesses  with 
the  general  government  of  the  country,  or  with  what  we  now 
call  the  state,  it  effected  nothing ;  they  took  no  part  inHus 
more  than  before  ;  all  remained  local,  enclosed  within  the 
limits  of  the  fief. 

One  circumstance,  however,  renders  this  assertion  not 
strictly  true :  a  connexion  now  began  to  be  formed  between 
the  cities  and  the  king.  At  one  time  the  people  called  upon 
the  king  for  support  and  protection,  or  solicited  him  to  gua- 
ranty the  charter  which  had  been  promised  or  sworn  to.  At 
unother  the  barons  invoked  the  judicial  interference  of  the 
king  between  them  and  the  burgesses.  At  the  request  of  one 
or  other  of  the  two  parties,  from  a  multitude  of  various  causes 


CIVILISATION    IN    MODERN    BO&OFB.  If!.'! 

■uyalty  \\.»s  called  upon  to  interfere  in  the  quarrel,  whence  re- 
sulted I  frequent  and  elose  eounexion  between  tlie  citizen* 
md  the  kini,r.  In  consequence  of  this  connexion  the  cities 
oecame  a  part  of  tlie  state,  they  began  to  have  relations  with 
the  general  government 

Although  all  still  remained  local,  yet  a  new  general  cla«8\ 
of  society  became  formed  by  the  enfranchisement  of  the  :om-  J 
nous.     No  coalition  of  tho  burgesses  of  different  cities  bad 
taken  place ;  as  yet  they  had  as  a  class  no  public  or  general 
nee.     But  the  country  was  covered  with  men  engagecT 
in  similar  pursuits,  possessing  the  same  views  and  interests    j 
the  same  manners  and  customs ;  between  whom  there  could  / 
not  fail  to  be  gradually  formed  a  certain  tie,  from  which  origi-/ 
nated  the  general  class  of  burgesses.     This  formation  of  a 
great  social  class  was  the  necessary  result  of  the  local  enfran- 
chisement of  the  burgesses.  It  must  not,  however,  be  suppos- 
ed that  the  class  of  which  we  are  speaking  was  then  what  it 
has  since  become.     Not  only  is  its  situation  greatly  changed, 
but  its  elements  are  totally  different.     In  tho  twelfth  century7\ 
this  class  was  almost  entirely  composed  of  merchants  or  small 
traders,  and  little  landed  or  house  proprietors  who  had  taken/ 
up  their  residence  in  the  city.     Three  centuries  afterwards\ 
there  were  added  to  this  class  lawyers,  physicians,  men  of  let^) 
ters,  and  the  local  magistrates.     Tbe  class  of  burgesses  was  , 
formed  gradually  and  of  very  different   elements  :    history 
gives  us  no  accurate  account  of  its  progress,  nor  of  its  diver- 
sity. When  the  body  of  citizens  is  speken  of,  it  is  erroneous- 
ly conjectured  to  have  been,  at  all  times,  composed  of  the 
same  elements.     Absurd  supposition  !     It  is,  perhaps,  in  the 
diversity  of  its  composition  at  different  periods  of  history  that 
we  should  seek  to  discover  the  secret  of  its  destiny ;  so  long 
as  it  was  destitute  of  magistrates  and  of  men  of  letters,  so 
long  it  remained  totally  unlike  what  it  became  in  the  sixteenth 
century ;  as  regards  the  state,  it  neither  possessed  the  same 
character  nor  the  same  importance.     In  order  to  form  a  just 
idea  of  the  changes  in  the  rank  and  influence  of  this  portion 
of  society,  we  must  take  a  view  of  the  mw  professions,  the 
new  moral  situations,  of  the  new  ittellectual  state  which  gra- 
dually arose  within  it.    In  the  twelfth  century,  I  must  repeat, 
he  body  of  citizens  consisted  only  of  small   merchants  01 ) 
traders,  who,  after  having  finished  their  purchases  and  sales 
tetirod  to  their  houses  in  the  city  or  town ;  and  of  Jittle  pro 


1G4  GENERAL    HISTORY    UF 

prietors  of  houses  or  lands  wlic  had  there  taken  up  their  resi- 
dence. Such  was  the  European  class  of  citizens,  :i  its  pri- 
mary elements 

The  third  great  result  of  the  enfranchisement  of  the  cities 
was  the  struggle  of  classes  ;  a  struggle  which  constitutes  the 
very  fact  of  modern  history,  and  of  which  it  is  full. 

Modern  Europe,  indeed,  is  born  of  this  struggle  between 
the  different  classes  of  society.  I  have  already  shown  that  in 
other  places  this  struggle  has  been  productive  of  very  differ- 
ent consequences  ;  in  Asia,  for  example,  one  particular  class 
has  completely  triumphed,  and  the  system  of  castes  has  suc- 
ceeded to  that  of  classes,  and  society  has  there  fallen  into  a 
state  of  immobility.  Nothing  of  this  kind,  thank  God  !  ha? 
taken  place  in  Europe.  One  of  the  classes  has  not  conquer- 
ed, has  not  brought  the  others  into  subjection ;  no  class  has 
been  able  to  overcome,  to  subjugate  the  others ;  the  struggle, 
instead  of  rendering  society  stationary,  has  been  a  principal 
cause  of  its  progress ;  the  relations  of  the  different  classes 
with  one  another  ;  the  necessity  of  combating  and  of  yielding 
by  turns  ;  the  variety  of  interests,  passions,  and  excitements  ; 
the  desire  to  conquer  without  the  power  to  do  so :  from  all 
this  has  probably  sprung  the  most  energetic,  the  most  produc- 
tive principle  of  development  in  European  civilization.  This 
/^struggle  of  the  classes  has  been  constant ;  enmity  has  grown 
up  between  them  ;  the  infinite  diversity  of  situation,  of  inter- 
,  ests,  and  of  manners,  has  produced  a  strong  moral  hostility ; 
vet  they  have  progressively  approached,  assimilated,  and  un- 
derstood each  other ;  every  country  of  Europe  has  seen  arise 
and  develop  itself  within  it  a  certain  public  mind,  a  certain 
community  of  interests,  of  ideas,  of  sentiments,  which  have 
triumphed  over  this  diversity  and  war.  In  France,  for  example, 
in  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries,  the  moral  and  so- 
cial separation  of  classes  was  still  very  profound,  yet  there 
can  be  no  doubt  but  that  their  fusion,  even  then,  was  far  ad- 
vanced ;  that  even  then  there  was  a  real  French  nation,  nof 
consi&ting  of  any  class  exclusively,  but  of  a  commixture  of  the 
whole ;  all  animated  with  the  same  feeling,  actuated  by  one 
common  social  principle,  firmly  knit  together  by  the  bond  of 
nationality. 
/^  Thus,  from  the  bosom  of  variety,  enmity,  and  discord,  has 
Lqaued  that  national  unity,  now  become  so  conspicuous  in 
modern  Europe  ;  that  nationality  whose  tendency  is  to  de 


CIVILIZATION    IN    NODI  >ri, 

.flop  and  purify  itself  mora   and   more,  an  1   every  <1  iy  to  in 
BIOMQ  Ul   splendor. 

Such  are  the  groat,  the  important,  the  conspicuous  socia 
effects  of  the  revolution  which  now  occupies  our  attention 
Lot  us  now  endeavor  to  show  what  were  its  moral  effects , 
what  changes  it  produced  in  the  minds  of  the  citizens  them- 1 
eelves,  what  they  became  in  consequence,  and  what  they/ 
should  morally  become,  in  their  new  situation.  / 

When  we  t;ike  into  our  consideratic  n  the  connexion  of  the 
citizens  with  the  state  in  general,  with  the  government  of  the 
state,  and  with  the  interests  of  the  country,  as  that  connexion 
existed  not  only  in  the  twelfth  century,  but  also  in  after  ages, 
there  is  one  circumstance  which  must  strike  us  irost  forcibly  : 
I  mean  the  extraordinary  mental  timidity  of  the  citizens  : 
their  humility  ;  the  excessive  modesty  of  their  pretensions  to 
a  right  of  interference  in  the  government  of  their  country  ; 
and  the  little  matter  that,  in  this  respect,  contented  them. 
Nothing  was  to  be  seen  in  them  which  discovered  that  genuine\ 
political  feeling  which  aspires  to  the  possession  of  influence, 
and  to  the  power  of  reforming  and  governing ;  nothing  at- 
tests in  them  either  energy  of  mind,  or  loftiness  of  ambition 
one  feels  ready  to  exclaim,  Poor,  prudent,  simple-heartet 
citizens ! 

There  are  not,  properly,  more  than  two  sources  whence,  \ 
in  the  political  world,  can  flow  loftiness  of  ambition  and  ener- 
gy of  mind.     There  must  be  either  the  feeling  of  possessing 
a  great  importance,  a  great  power  over  the  destiny  of  others, 
and  this  over  a  large  sphere  ;  or  there  must  be  in  one's  self 
a  powerful  feeling  of  personal  independence,  the  assurance  of 
one's  own  liberty,  the  consciousness  of  having  a  destiny  with 
which  no  will  can  intermeddle  beyond  that  in  one's   own  / 
bosom.     To  one  or  other  of  these  two  conditions  seem  to 
attached  energy  of  mind,  the  loftiness  of  ambition,  the  desiro 
to  act  in  a  large  sphere,  and  to  obtain  corresponding  results 

Neither  of  these  conditions  is  to  be  found  in  the  situation 
of  the  burgesses  of  the  middle  ages.  These  were,  as  we 
have  just  seen,  only  important  to  themselves  ;  except  within 
the  walls  of  their  own  city,  their  influence  amounted  to  but 
litue ;  as  regarded  the  state,  to  almost  nothing.  Nor  could  ] 
Jxy  be  possessed  of  any  great  feeling  of  personal  indepen^/ 
Ccnoe  :  their  having  conquered — their  having  obtained  a  char* 
tor  did  but  little  ir>  the  way  of  promoting  this  noble  fcenti 


1(50  GENERAL    HISTORY    OY 

ment.  The  burgess  of  a  city,  comparing  himself  with  the 
little  baron  who  dwelt  near  him,  and  who  had  just  been  van 
quished  by  him,  would  still  be  sensible  of  his  own  extreme 
inferiority ,  he  was  ignorant  of  that  proud  sentiment  of  inde 
pendence  which  animated  the  proprietor  of  a  fief ;  the  share 
of  freedom  which  he  possessed  was  not  derived  from  himself 
alone,  but  from  his  association  with  others — from  the  difficult 
and  precarious  succor  which  they  afforded.  Hence  that  re- 
tiring disposition,  that  timidity  of  mind,  that  trembling  shy- 
ness, that  humility  of  speech,  (though  perhaps  coupled  with 
firmness  of  purpose,)  which  is  so  deeply  stamped  on  the  char- 
acter of  the  burgesses,  not  only  of  the  twelfth  century,  but 
even  of  their  most  remote  descendants.  They  had  no  taste 
for  great  enterprises  ;  if  chance  pushed  them  into  such,  they 
became  vexed  and  embarrassed ;  any  resrx  nsibility  was  a 
burden  to  them  ;  they  felt  themselves  out  of  their  sphere,  and 
endeavored  to  return  into  it ;  they  treated  upon  easy  terms. 
Thus,  in  running  over  the  history  of  Europe,  and  especially 
of  France,  we  may  occasionally  find  municipal  communities 
esteemed,  consulted,  perhaps  respected,  but  rarely  feared  ; 
they  seldom  impressed  their  adversaries  with  the  notion  that 
they  were  a  great  and  formidable  power,  a  power  truly  politi- 
cal. There  is  nothing  to  be  astonished  at  in  the  weakness  of 
the  modern  burgess ;  the  great  cause  of  it  may  be  traced  to 
his  origin,  in  those  circumstances  of  his  enfranchisement 
which  I  have  just  placed  before  you.  The  loftiness  of  ambi- 
tion, independent  of  social  conditions,  breadth  and  boldness 
of  political  views,  the  desire  to  be  employed  in  public  affairs, 
the  full  consciousness  of  the  greatness  of  man,  considered  as 
such,  and  of  the  power  that  belongs  to  him,  if  he  be  capable 
of  exercising  it ;  it  is  these  sentiments,  these  dispositions, 
which,  of  entirely  modern  growth  in  Europe,  are  the  offspring 
of  modern  civilization,  and  of  that  glorious  and  powerful  gen- 
erality which  characterizes  it,  and  which  will  never  fail  to  se- 
cure to  the  public  an  influence,  a  weight  in  the  government  oi 
the  country,  that  were  constantly  wanting,  and  deservedly 
wanting,  to  the  burgesses  our  ancestors 

f~*  As  a  set-off  to  this,  in  the  contests  which  they  had  to  sus- 
tain respecting  their  local  interests — in  this  narrow  field,  they 
acquired  and  displayed  a  degree  of  energy,  devotedness,  per- 
severance, and  patience,  which  has  never  been  surpassed. 
The  difficulty  of  the  enterprise  was  so  great,  they  had   tc 


CIVILISATION    IN   MODI  IPS.  167 

ainst  Bach  perils,  that  t  display  of  courage  almost 
Ivvoud  example  became  necessary.      Our  notions  of  the  bur 
gess  of  tlie  twelfth  anil  thirteenth  centuries,  and  of  his  life 
are  very  erroneous.    The  picture  which  Sir  Walter  Scott  has 
drawn  in  Quentin  Durward  of  the  burgomaster  of  Liege,  fat, 
inactive,  without  experience,  without  daring,  and  caring  foi 
nothing  but  passing  his  life  in  ease  and  enjoyment,  is  only  fit- 
ted for  the  Stage  ;  the  real  burgess  of  that  day  had  a  coat  of 
mail  continually  on  his  back,  a  pike  constantly  in  his  hand  ; 
his  life  was  nearly  as  stormy,  as  warlike,  as  rigid  as  lhat  of 
the  nobles  with  whom  he  contended.     It  was  in  these  ev 
day  penis,  in  combating  the  varied  dangers  of  practical  life, 
hat  he  acquired  that  bold  and  masculine  character,  that  de- 
termined exertion,  which  have  become  more  rare  in  the  softer 
Activity  of  modern  times. 

None,  however,  of  these  social  and  moral  effects  of  the  en-\ 
iVanchisement  of  corporations  became  fully  developed  in  the  ) 
twelfth  century  ;  it  is  only  in  the  course  of  the  two  following 
centuries  that  they  showed  themselves  so  as  to  be  clearly  dis- 
cerned. It  is  nevertheless  certain  that  the  seeds  of  these 
effects  existed  in  the  primary  situation  of  the  commons,  in  the 
mode  of  their  enfranchisement,' and  in  the  position  which  tlie 
burgesses  from  that  time  took  in  society ;  I  think,  therefore, 
that  I  have  done  right  in  bringing  these  circumstances  before 
you  to-day. 

Let  us  now  penetrate  into  the  interior  of  one  of  those  cor- 
porate cities  of  the  twelfth  century,  that  we  may  see  how  it 
was  governed,  that  we  may  now  see  what  principles  and  what 
facts  prevailed  in  the  relations  of  the  burgesses  with  one  an 
other.     It  must  be  remembered,  that  in  speaking  of  the  muA 
nicipal  system  bequeathed  by  the  Roman  empire  to  the  mo-\ 
dern  world,  I  took  occasion  to  say,  that  the  Roman  world 
was  a  great  coalition  of  municipalities,  which  had  previously/ 
been  as  sovereign  and  independent  as  Rome  itself.     Each  of 
these  cities  had  formerly  been  in  the  same  condition  as  Rome 
a  little  free  republic,  making  peace  and  war,  and  governing 
itself  by  its  own  will.     As  fast  as  these  became  incorporated 
into  the  Roman  world,  those  rights  which  constitute  sove- 
reignty— the  righf  of  war  and  peace,  of  legislation,  taxation, 
&c. — were  transferred  from  each  city  to  the  central  govern- 
ment at  Rome.     There  remained    then  but  one    municipal 
sovereignty.     Rome  reigned   over  a  vast  number  of  m.inici 


1C8  GENERAL    HISTOI?  Y    OF 

palitics,  which  nad  nothing  left  beyond  a  civic  existence 
The  municipal  system  became  essentially  changed  :  it  was  no 
longer  a  political  government,  but  simply  a  mode  of  adminis- 
tration. This  was  the  grand  revolution  which  was  consum- 
mated under  the  Roman  empire.  The  municipal  system  be- 
came a  mode  of  administration  ;  it  was  reduced  to  the  govern- 
ment of  local  affairs,  to  the  civic  interests  of  the  city.  This 
is  the  state  in  which  the  Roman  empire,  at  its  fall,  left  the 
cities  and  their  institutions.  During  the  chaos  of  barbarism, 
notions  and  facts  of  all  sorts  became  embroiled  and  confused  ; 
the  various  attributes  of  sovereignty  and  administration  were 
confounded.  Distinctions  of  this  nature  were  no  longer  re- 
garded. Affairs  were  suffered  to  run  on  in  the  course  dictated 
by  necessity.  The  municipalities  became  sovereigns  or  ad- 
ministrators in  the  various  places,  as  need  might  require 
Where  cities  rebelled,  they  re-assumed  the  sovereignty,  for 
the  sake  of  security,  not  out  of  respect  for  any  political  theory 
nor  from  any  feeling  of  their  dignity,  but  that  they  might  have 
the  means  of  contending  with  the  nobles,  whose  yoke  they 
had  thrown  off;  that  they  might  take  upon  themselves  the 
right  to  call  out  the  militia,  to  tax  themselves  to  support  the 
war,  to  name  their  own  chiefs  and  magistrates  ;  in  a  word,  to 
govern  themselves.  The  internal  government  of  the  city  was 
their  means  of  defence,  of  security.  Thus,  sovereignty  again 
returned  to  the  municipal  system,  which  had  been  deprived  of 
it  by  the  conquests  of  Rome.  City  corporations  again  be- 
came sovereigns.  This  is  the  political  characteristic  of  their 
enfranchisement. 

I  do  notr  however,  mean  to  assert,  that  this  sovereignty 
was  complete.  Some  trace  of  an  exterior  sovereignty  always 
may  be  found ;  sometimes  it  was  the  baron  who  retained  the 
right  to  send  a  magistrate  into  the  city,  with  whom  the  muni- 
cipal magistrates  acted  as  assessors  ;  perhaps  he  had  the 
right  to  collect  certain  revenues ;  in  some  cases  a  fixed  tri- 
bute was  assured  to  him.  Sometimes  the  exterior  sovereignty 
of  the  community  was  in  the  hands  of  the  king. 

("*"  The  cities  themselves,  in  their  turn,  entered  into  the  feu 
dal  system ;  they  had  vassals,  and  became  suzerains  ;  and  by 
this  title  possessed  that  portion  of  sovereignty  which  was  in 
herent  in  the  suzerainty.  A  great  confusion  arose  between 
the  rights  which  they  held  from  their  feudal  position,  and  those 
which  they  had  acquired  by  their  insurrection  ;  and  by  this 
iouHe  title  they  held  the  sovereignty. 


CIVILISATION    in    MODERN    i trope 

T,ct  |  far  as  the  very  scanty  sources   loft  us   Will 

allow,  bow  the  internal  government  of  the  cities,  at  [east  in 

thi  more  early  times,  was  managed.  The  entire  body  of  tlio 
inhabitants  formed  the  communal  assembly:  all  those  who 
had  taken  the  communal  oath — and  all  who  dwelt  within  the 
walls  were  obliged  to  do  so — were  summoned,  by  the  tolling 
of  the  bell,  to  the  general  assembly.  In  this  were  named  the 
magistrates.  The  number  chosen,  and  the  power  and  pro- 
ceedings of  the  magistrates,  differed  very  considerably.  Af- 
ter choosing  the  magistrates,  the  assemblies  dissolved ;  ami 
the  magistrates  governed  almost  alone,  sufficiently  arbitrarily, 
being  under  no  further  responsibility  than  the  new  elections, 
or,  perhaps,  popular  outbreaks,  which  were,  at  this  time,  the 
jjreat  guarantee  for  good  government. 

You  will  observe  that  the  internal  oiganization  of  the  mu- 
nicipal towns  is  reduced  to  two  very  simple  elements,  the  gen-   J 
oral  assembly  of  the  inhabitants,  and  a  government  invested  / 
with  almost  arbitrary  power,  under  the  responsibility  of  insur/ 
rections, — general  outbreaks.     It  was  impossible,  especially 
while  such  manners  prevailed,  to  establish  anything  like  a 
regular  government,  with  proper  guarantees  of  order  and  du- 
ration.    The  greater  part  of  the  population  of  these  cities 
were  ignorant,  brutal,  and  savage  to  a  degree  which  rendered 
them  exceedingly  difficult  to  govern.     At  the  end  of  a  very 
short  period,  there  was  but  little  more  security  within  these 
communities  than  there  had  been,  previously,  in  the  relations 
of  the  burgesses  within  the  baron.     There  soon,  however^ 
became  formed  a  burgess  aristocracy.     The  causes  of  this] 
are  easily  understood.     The  notions  of  that  day,  coupled  with 
certain  social  relations,  led  to  the  establishment  of  trading 
companies  legally  coastituted.     A  system  of  privileges  be- 
came introduced  into  the  interior  of  the  cities,  and,  in  the  end 
a  great  inequality.     There  soon  grew  up  in  all  of  them  a  cer- 
tain number  of  considerable,  opulent  burgesses,  and  a  popula- 
tion, more  or  less  numerous,  of  workmen,  who,  notwithstand 
ing  their  inferiority,  had  no  small  influence  in  the  affairs  of 
the  community.     The  free  cities  thus  became  divided  into  an 
upper  class  of  burgesses,  and  a  population  subject  to  all  the 
errors,  all  the  vices  of  a  mob.     The  superior  citizens  thus 
found  themselves  pressed  between  two  great  difficulties  :  first, 
:ho  arduous  one  of  governing  this  inferior  turbulent  popula 
tion    and  secondly,  that  of  withstanding  fhe  continual  attempt? 


170  GENERAL    HISTORY     OF 

of  the  ancient  master  of  the  borough,  who  sought  to  regain 
his  former  power.  Such  was  the  situation  of  their  affairs,  not 
only  in  France,  but  in  Europe,  down  to  the  sixteenth  century. 
This,  perhaps,  is  **he  cause  which  prevented  these  communi 
ties  from  taking,  in  several  countries  of  Europe,  and  especial- 
ly in  France,  that  high  political  station  which  seemed  proper- 
ly to  belong  to  them.  Two  spirits  were  unceasingly  at  work 
within  them :  among  the  inferior  population,  a  blind,  licen- 
tious, furious  spirit  of  democracy ;  among  the  superior  bur- 
gesses, a  spirit  of  timidity,  of  caution,  and  an  excessive  de- 
sire to  accommodate  all  differences,  whether  with  the  king,  or 
with  its  ancient  proprietors,  so  as  to  preserve  peace  and  order 
in  the  bosom  of  the  community.  Neither  of  these  spirits  could 
raise  the  cities  to  a  high  rank  in  the  state. 

All  these  effects  did  not  become  apparent  in  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury ;  still  we  may  foresee  them,  even  in  the  character  of  the 
insurrection,  in  the  manner  in  which  it  broke  out,  in  the  state 
of  the  different  elements  of  the  city  population. 

Such,  if  I  mistake  not,  are  the  principal  characteristics,  the 
general  results,  both  of  the  enfranchisement  of  the  cities  and 
of  their  internal  government.  I  have  already  premised,  that 
hese  facts  were  not  so  uniform,  not  so  universal,  as»  I  have 
represented  them.  There  are  great  diversities  in  the  history 
of  the  European  free  cities.  In  the  south  of  France  and  in 
Italy,  for  example,  the  Roman  municipal  system  prevailed , 
ihe  population  was  not  nearly  so  divided,  so  unequal,  as  in 
the  north.  Here,  also,  the  municipal  organization  was  much 
better  ;  perhaps  the  effect  of  Roman  traditions,  perhaps  of  the 
better  state  of  the  population.  In  the  north,  it  was  the  feudal 
system  that  prevailed  in  the  city  arrangements.  Here  all 
soemed  subordinate  to  the  struggle  against  the  barons.  The 
cities  of  the  south  paid  much  more  regard  to  their  internal  con- 
stitution, to  the  work  of  melioration  and  progress.  We  see, 
from  the  beginning,  that  they  will  become  free  republics.  The 
career  of  those  of  the  north,  above  all  those  of  France,  show- 
ed itself,  from  the  first,  more  rude,  more  incomplete,  destined 
to  less  perfect,  less  beautiful  developments.  If  we  run  over 
those  of  Germany,  Spain,  and  England,  we  shall  find  among 
them  many  other  differences.  I  cannot  particularize  them, 
twl  bhall  notice  some  of  them,  as  we  advance  in  the  history 
of  civilization.  All  things  at  their  origin  are  nearly  confound- 
ed in  one  and  the  same  physiognomy :   it  is  only  in  theil 


CIVILIZATION     IN    M011KRN     Kl'KOl'K.  IV  1 

after-growth  that  their  variety  shows  itself.      Then  begins  Q 
now  development  whieh  urges  forward  societies  towards  that 
and  lofty  unity,  the  glorious  object  of  the  efforts  ami 
wishes  of  mankind.18 


19  Hallam's  Middle  Ages,  Chap.  ii.  pt.  2,  treating  of  the  cause* 
of  the  decline  of  the  feudal  system,  contains  a  brief  view  of  the 
Origin  of  the  free  cities,  the  time  of  their  incorporation  in  the  prin- 
cipal countries  of  feudal  Europe,  the  nature  of  their  privileges, 
etc.  In  the  opinion  of  this  writer,  corporations  existed  earlier  in 
Spain  than  in  any  other  country  :  the  charter  of  Leon,  granted  by 
Alfonzo  V.  in  1020,  makes  mention  of  the  common  council  of  that 
oity  as  an  existing  and  long-established  institution.  The  earliest 
charters  in  Franc*-  those  of  St.  Quentin  and  Amiens — were  grant- 
ed bv  Louis  VI.  During  his  reign,  and  those  of  the  two  succeed- 
ing kings,  110S-1223,  the  principal  towns  in  France  acquired  the 
privileges  of  incorporation.  In  England  it  is  not  clear  that  any 
corporate  towns,  except  London,  possessed  the  right  of  internal 

iurisdiction  before  the  reign  of  Henry  II.,  1154.     The  charter  of 
iOndon  was  granted  by  Henry  I.,  in  1J00. 

Most  worthy  of  the  student's  attention  is  the  history  of  the  free 
cities  of  Germany  and  Italy,  especially  of  the  latier,  as  having 
contributed  so  largely  to  the  progress  of  modern  civilization.  By 
the  middle  of  the  twelfth  century  the  cities  of  Lombardy,  with 
Milan  at  their  head,  had  become  extremely  rich  and  powerful; 
they  formed  a  confederation  among  themselves  ;  maintained  an  ob- 
stinate struggle  for  more  than  thirty  years  with  Frederick  Barba- 
rossa,  emperor  of  Germany,  which  terminated  in  11S3  by  the 
treaty  of  Constance,  wherein  the  emperor  renounced  all  legal  privi- 
leges in  the  interior  of  the  cities,  acknowledged  the  right  of  the 
confederated  cities  to  levy  armies,  erect  fortifications,  exercise 
criminal  and  civil  jurisdiction  by  officers  of  their  own  appointment. 
Among  the  German  cities,  confederations  were  also  formed :  of 
these  the  most  celebrated  was  the  Hanseatic  League,  which  origi- 
nated in  1239-1241,  from  a  convention  between  Lubeck,  Hamburg, 
and  one  or  two  other  cities,  by  which  they  agreed  to  defend  each 
other  against  all  oppression  and  violence,  particularly  of  the  nobles 
The  number  of  towns  united  in  this  league  rapidly  increased ;  it 
included  at  one  time  eighty-five  cities.  Regular  diets  were  held 
every  third  year  at  Lubeck,  the  chief  city  of  the  confederacy.  This 
league  was  at  various  times  confirmed  by  kings  and  princes ;  and, 
in  the  fourteenth  century,  exercised  a  powerful  political  as  well  as 
commercial  influence.    It  was  dissolved  in  1630. 

The  privileges  granted  by  charters  to  the  cities  in  the  middie 
Sges,  were  in  general  these :  the  right  of  corporate  property ;  a 
common  seal ;  exemption  from  the  more  ignominious  or  oppressive 
tokens  of  feudal  subjection,  and  the  defined  regulation  of  the  rest; 
3etuVd  rules  as  to  succession  and  private  rights  of  property  •  and, 


172  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF    CIVILIZATION. 

lastly,  and  of  the  greatest  value,  exemption  from  the  royal  jurisdic- 
tion, as  well  as  from  that  of  the  territorial  judges,  and  the  right  oi 
being  governed  by  magistrates  of  their  own,  either  wholly,  or  (in 
some  cases)  partly  chosen  by  themselves.     By  degrees,  at"  a  latei 

{period,  the  cities  acquired  the  right  of  representation  in  the  legisl- 
ative bodies  of  the  nation — in  Spain  as  early  as  the  middle  of  the 
twelfth  century,  in  France,  England,  Germany,  and  Italy  aootit  a 
century  later. 


LECTURE  VIII 

-  -  I'.  I  CH  OF  EUROPEAN  CIVILIZATION — STATE  OF  BUftOM  VBOH 
THE  TWKLFTH  TO  TBI  FOURTEENTH  CENTURIES — TM« 
CRUSADES. 

I  have  not  yet  laid  before  you  the  whole  plan  of  my  course. 
1  began  by  pointing  out  its  object,  and  I  then  went  straight 
forward,  without  taking  any  comprehensive  view  of  European 
civilization,  and  without  indicating  at  once  its  starting-point, 
its  path,  and  its  goal, — its  beginning,  middle,  and  end.  We 
are  now,  however,  arrived  at  a  period  when  this  comprehen- 
sive view,  this  general  outline,  of  the  world  through  which 
we  travel,  becomes  necessary.  The  times  which  have  hither- 
to been  the  subject  of  our  study,  are  explained  in  some  mea- 
sure by  themselves,  or  by  clear  and  immediate  results.  The 
limes  into  which  we  are  about  to  enter  can  neither  be  under- 
stood nor  excite  any  strong  interest,  unless  we  connect  them 
with  their  most  indirect  and  remote  consequences.  In  an  in- 
quiry of  such  vast  extent,  a  time  arrives  when  we  can  no 
longer  submit  to  go  forward  with  a  dark  and  unknown  path 
before  us  ;  when  we  desire  to  know  not  only  whence  we  have 
come  and  where  we  are,  but  whither  we  are  going.  This  is 
now  the  case  with  us.  The  period  which  we  approach  can- 
not be  understood,  or  its  importance  appreciated,  unless  by 
means  of  the  relations  which  connect  it  with  modern  times. 
Its  true  spirit  has  been  revealed  only  by  the  lapse  of  many 
subsequent  ages. 

We  are  in  possession  of  almost  all  the  essential  elements 
of  European  civilization.  I  say  almost  all,  because  I  have  not ) 
\et  said  anything  on  the  subject  of  monarchy.  The  crisis 
which  decidedly  developed  the  monarchical  principle,  hardly 
took  place  before  the  twelfth  or  even  the  thirteenth  century. 
It  was  then  only  that  the  institution  of  monarchy  was  really 
established,  and  began  to  occupy  a  definite  place  in  modem 
society.  It  is  on  this  account  that  I  have  not  sooner  entered 
on  the  subject.     With  this  exception  we  possess,  I  repeat  it 


1 74  GENERAL    HISTORV    OF 

all  the  great  elements  of  European  society.     You  have  seen 
/  the  origin  of  the  feudal  aristocracy,  the  Church  and  the  muni- 
l  cipaiitie3 ;  you  have  observed  the  institutions  which  would 
naturally  correspond  with  these  facts  ;  and  not  only  the  insti- 
tutions, but  the  principles  and  ideas  which  these  facts  natu- 
rally give  rise  to.  Thus,  with  reference  to  feudalism,  you  have 
watched  the  origin  of  modern  domestic  life ;  you  have  com 
prehended,  in  all  its  energy,  the  feeling  of  personal  indepen- 
dence, and  the  place  which  it  must  have  occupied  in  our  civi 
lization.     With  reference  to  the  Church,  you  have  observed 
)  the  appearance  of  the  purely  religious  form  of  society,  its  re- 
,   lations  with  civil  society,  the  principle  of  theocracy,  the  sepa- 
ration between  the  spiritual  and  temporal  powers,  the  first 
(  blows  of  persecution,  the  first  cries  of  liberty  of  conscience. 
The  infant  municipalities  have  given  you  a  view  of  a  social 
union  founded  on  principles  quite  different  from  those  of  feu- 
dalism ;  the  diversity  of  the  classes  of  society,  their  contests 
with  each  other,  the  first  and  strongly  marked  features  of  the 
manners  of  the  modern  inhabitants  of  towns  ;  timidity  of  judg- 
ment combined  with  energy  of  soul,  proneness  to  be  excited 
by  demagogues  joined  to  a  spirit  of  obedience  to  legal  au- 
thority ;  all  the  elements,  in  short,  which  have  concurred  in 
the  formation  of  European  society  have  already  come  under 
/our  observation. 

Let  us  now  transport  ourselves  into  the  heart  of  modern 
Europe  ;  I  do  not  mean  Europe  in  the  present  day,  after  the 
prodigious  metamorphosis  we  have  witnessed,  but  in  the 
seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries.  What  an  immense 
difference  !  I  have  already  insisted  on  this  difference  with 
reference  to  communities  ;  I  have  endeavored  to  show  you 
how  little  resemblance  there  is  between  the  burgesses  of  the 
eighteenth  century  and  those  of  the  twelfth.  Make  the  same 
experiment  on  feudalism  and  the  Church,  and  you  will  be 
struck  with  a  similar  metamorphosis.  There  was  no  more  re- 
semblance between  the  nobility  of  the  court  of  Louis  XV. 
and  the  feudal  aristocracy,  or  between  the  Church  in  the  daya 
of  Cardinal  de  Bernis  and  those  of  the  Abbe  Suger,  than 
there  is  between  the  burgesses  of  the  eighteenth  century  and 
the  same  class  in  the  twelfth.  Between  these  two  periods 
though  society  had  already  acquired  all  its  elemerM,  it  under- 
went a  total  transformation. 


CIVILISATION    i\    KOD  »PI,  175 

I  am  now  desirous  t.)  trace  clearly  the  general   and   esv. 
lal  character  of  this  transformation. 

From  the  fifth  century,  society  contained  all  that  I  liaveN 
.  !y  found  and  described  as  belonging  to  it, — kings,  a  lay  < 
aristocracy,  a  clergy,  citizens,  husbandmen,  civil  and  religious  I 
'luthorities  ;  the  germs,  in  short,  of'  every  thing  necessary  to  / 
t'orm  a  nation  and  a  government ;  and  yet  tnere  was  no  govern-/ 
Bint,  no  nation.      In  all  the  period  that  has  occupied  our  at- 
tention, there  was  no  such  thing  as  a  people,  properly  so  call- 
ed, or  a  government,  in  the  modern  acceptation  of  the  word. 
We  have  fallen  in  with  a  number  of  particular  forces,  special 
acts,  and  local  institutions  ;  but  nothing  general,  nothing  pub- 
ic, nothing  political,  nothing,  in  short,  like  real  nationality 

Let  us,  on  the  other  hand,  survey  Europe  in  the  seven- 
teenth and  eighteenth  centuries:  we  everywhere  see  two 
great  objects  make  their  appearance  on  the  stage  of  the  world, 
— the  government  and  the  people.  The  influence  of  a  gene- 
ral power  over  an  entire  country,  and  the  influence  of  tlm 
country  in  the  power  which  governs  it,  are  the  materials  of 
history  ;  the  relations  between  these  great  forces,  their  allian- 
ces or  their  contests,  are  the  subjects  of  its  narration.  TheN 
nobility,  the  clergy,  the  citizens,  all  these  different  classes 
and  particular  powers  are  thrown  into  the  back-ground,  and 
effaced,  as  it  were,  by  these  two  great  objects,  the  people  and 
its  government. 

This,  if  I  am  not  deceived,  is  the  essential  feature  which 
distinguishes  modern  Europe  from  the  Europe  of  the  early 
ages  ;  and  this  was  the  change  which  was  accomplished  be-   / 
tween  the  thirteenth  and  the  sixteenth  century. 

It  is,  then,  in  the  period  from  the  thirteenth  to  the  sixteenth/) 
century,  into  which  we  are  about  to  enter,  that  we  must  en 
deavor  to  find  the  cause  of  this  change.     It  is  the  distinctive  \ 
character  of  this  period,  that  it  was  employed  in  changing  | 
Europe  from  its  primitive  to  its  modern  state  ;  and  hence  arise/ 
its  importance  and  historical  interest.    If  we  did  not  consider 
it  under  this  point  of  view,  if  we  did  not  endeavor  to  discover 
the  events  which  arose  out  of  this  period,  not  only  we  should 
never  be  able  to  comprehend  it,  but  we  should  soon  become 
weary  of  the  inquiry.  . 

Viewed  in  itself  and  apart  from  its  results,  it  is  a  period  \ 
without  character,  a  period  in  which  confusion  went  on  in-  / 


176  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

creasing  without  apparent  causes,  a  period  of  movement  with- 
out direction,  of  agitation  without  result ;  a  period  when  mon- 
archy, nobility,  clergy,  citizens,  all  the  elements  of  social  or- 
der, seemed  to  turn  round  in  the  same  circle,  incapable  alike 
of  progression  and  of  rest.     Experiments  of  all  kinds  were 
made  and  failed  ;  endeavors  were  made  to  establish  govern- 
ments and  lay  the  foundations  of  public  liberty  ;  reforms  in  re- 
ligion were  even  attempted  ;  but  nothing  was  accomplished 
or  came  to  any  result.     If  ever  the  human  race  seemed  des- 
tined to  be  always  agitated,  and  yet  always  statiorary,  con- 
I    demned  to  unceasing  and  yet  barren  labors,  it  was  from  the 
I    thirteenth  to  the  fifteenth  century  that  this  was  the  complex- 
xi°n  °f  lts  condition  and  history. 

I  am  acquainted  only  with  one  wrork  in  which  this  appear- 
ance of  the  period  in  question  is  faithfully  described  ;  I  allude 
to  M.  de  Barante's  His tory  of  the  Dukes  of  Burgundy.  I  do 
not  speak  of  the  fidelity  of  his  pictures  of  manners  and  nar- 
ratives of  adventures,  but  of  that  general  fidelity  which  ren- 
ders the  work  an  exact  image,  a  true  mirror  of  the  whole  pe- 
riod, of  which  it  at  the  same  time  displays  both  the  agitation 
and  the  monotony. 

Considered,  on  the  contrary,  in  relation  to  what  has  suc- 
ceeded it,  as  the  transition  from  Europe  in  its  primitive,  to 
Europe  in  its  modern  state,  this  period  assumes  a  more  dis- 
tinct and  animated  aspect ;  we  discover  in  it  a  unity  of  de- 
sign, a  movement  in  one  direction,  a  progression  ;  and  it* 
unity  and  interest  are  found  to  reside  in  the  slow  and  hidden 
labor  accomplished  in  the  course  of  its  duration. 


(in 


The  history  of  European  civilization,  then,  may  be  thrown 
into  three  great  periods  :  first,  a  period  which  I  shall  call  that 
"  origin,  or  formation  ;  during  which  the  different  elements 
of  society  disengage  themselves  from  chaos,  assume  an  ex- 
istence, and  show  themselves  in  their  native  forms,  with  the 
principles  by  which  they  are  animated ;  this  period  lasted  al- 
most to  the  twelfth  century.  The  second  period  is  a  period 
of  experiments,  attempts,  groping ;  the  different  elements  of 
society  approach  and  enter  into  combination,  feeling  each 
other,  as  it  were,  but  without  producing  anything  general, 
regular,  or  durable  ;  this  state  of  things,  to  say  the  truth,  did 
not  terminate  till  the  sixteenth  century.  Then  comes  the 
third  period,  or  the  period  of  development,  in  which  human 
wciotyin  Europe  takes  a  definite  form,  follows  a  determirvaw 


CIV11  -    in    UODKRN     IOROPB.  1V7 

direction,  proceeds  rapidly  ami  with  ■  general  movement,  to- 
wards i  near  and  precise  object ;  this  is  the  period  which 

a  in  the  sixteenth  century,  and  is  now  pursuing  its  coins.- 


Such  appears,  on  a  general  view,  to  be  the  aspect  of  Eu- 
ropean civilization.  We  are  now  about  to  enter  into  the  se- 
cond of  the  above  periods ;  and  we  have  to  inquiro  what  were 
the  peat  and  critical  events  which  occurred  during  its  course, 
and  which  were  the  determining  causes  of  the  social  transfor- 
mation which  was  its  result. 

The  first  great  event  which  presents  itself  to  our  view,  and 
which  opened,  so  to  speak,  the  period  Ave  are  speaking  of,    j 
was  the  crusades.     They  began  at  the  end  of  the  eleventh  ^^^ 
century,  and  lasted  during  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth.    It  was,  ■*" 
indeed,  a  great  event  ;  for,  since  its  occurrence,  it  has  novel 
d  to  occupy  the  attention  of  philosophical   historians, 
who  have  shown  themselves  aware  of  its  influence  in  chang- 
ing the  conditions  of  nations,  and  of  the  necessity  of  study  ir 
ardor  to  comprehend  the  general  course  of  its  facts.  gV  V  . 

The  first  character  of  the  crusades  is  their  universality  ;  aii   j 
Europe  concurred  in  them;    they  were  the  first   European 
event.     Before  the  crusades,  Europe  had  never  been  moved  * 
by  the  same  sentiment,  or  acted  in  a  common  cause  ;  till  then, 
in  fact,  Europe  did  not  exist.     The  crusades  made  manifest^    ' 
the  existence  of  Christian  Europe.     The  French  formed  tlitf^-^^ 
main  body  of  the  first  army  of  crusaders  ;  but  there  were  al- 
so Germans,  Italians,  Spaniards,  and  English.     But  look  at 
the  second  and  third  crusades,  and  we  find  all  the  nations  of 
Christendom  engaged  in  them.     The  world  had  never  before 
witnessed  a  similar  combination.  /.  g   r~ 

But  this  is  not  all.  In  the  same  manner  as  the  crusades  "\ 
were  a  European  event,  so,  in  each  separate  nation,  they  were  J 
a  national  event.  In  every  nation,  all  classes  of  society  were 
miniated  with  the  same  impression,  yielded  to  the  same  idea, 
and  abandoned  themselves  to  the  same  impulse.  Kings,  nobles, 
priests,  citizens,  country  people,  all  took  the  same  interesl 
and  the  same  share  in  the  crusades.  The  moral  unity  of  na- 
tions was  thus  made  manifest ;  a  fact  as  new  as  the  unity  of 
Europe 


178  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

When  such  events  take  place  in  what  may  be  called  tht 
youth  of  nations ;  in  periods  when  they  act  spontaneously, 
freely,  without  premeditation  or  political  design,  we  recog- 
nise what  history  Calls  heroic  events,  the  heroic  ages  of  na- 
tions.    The  crusades  were  the  heroic  event  of  modern  Eu- 

I  rope ;  a  movement  at  the  same  time  individual  and  general ; 

^national,  and  yet  not  under  political  direction. 

That  this  was  really  their  primitive  character  is  proved  by 
every  fact,  and  every  document.  Who  were  the  first  crusad- 
ers ?  Bands  of  people  who  set  out  under  the  conduct  of  Pe- 
g.  /  ter  the  Hermit,  without  preparations,  guides,  or  leaders,  fol- 
'  lowed  rather  than  led  by  a  few  obscure  knights,  traversed  Ger- 
many and  the  Greek  empire,  and  were  dispersed,  or  perished, 
in  Asia  Minor. 

The  higher  class,  the  feudal  nobility,  next  put  themselves 
in  motion  for  the  crusade.     Under  the  command  of  Godfrey 
of  Bouillon,  the  nobles  and  their  men  departed  full  of  ardor. 
•    When  they  had  traversed  Asia  Minor,  the  leaders  of  the  cru- 
saders were  seized  with  a  fit  of  lukewarmness  and  fatigue. 
They  became  indifferent  about  continuing  their  course  ;  they 
were  inclined  rather  to  look  to  their  own  interest,  to  make 
conquests  and  possess  them.     The  mass  of  the  army,  how- 
ever, rose  up,  and  insisted  on  marching  to  Jerusalem,  the  de 
liverance  cf  the  holy  city  being  the  object  of  the  crusade.     It 
was  not  to  gain  principalities  for  Raymond  of  Toulouse,  or 
for  Bohemond,  or  any  other  leader,  that  the  crusaders  had 
^^^taken  arms.     The  popular,  national,  European  impulse  over- 
>f,     /  came  all  the  intentions  of  individuals;  and  the  leaders  had 
.not  sufficient  ascendency  over  the  masses  to  make  them  yield 
*¥*  **^*°  ^eir  personal  interests. 

The  sovereigns,  who  had  been  strangers  to  the  first  cm- 
y^ade,  were  now  drawn  into  the    general    movement  as  the 
.'people  had  been.     The  great  crusades  of  the  twelfth  century 
were  commanded  by  kings. 

C  I  now  go  at  once  to  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century.  A 
[great  deal  was  still  said  in  Europe  about  crusades,  and  they 
^were  even  preached  with  arlor  The  popes  excited  the  sove- 
reigns and  the  people  ;  councils  were  held  to  recommend  the 
conquest  of  the  holy  land  ;  but  no  expeditions  of  any  import- 
ance were  now  undertaken  for  this  purpose,  and  it  was  re- 
garded with  ceneral  indifference.    Something  had  entered  in 


(  :vn .,/.  \  i  iOH    in    NODI  >P1  I  79 

to  the  Bpirrl  <>t*  European  society  which  put  an  end  to  the  cm 

sades.      Some     private    expeditions    Still    took    place  ;    tOflQN 

noble*  end  some  bands  of  troope  still  continued  to  depart  fot 
Jerusalem  ;  but  the  genera]  movement  was  evidently  arrested. 

Neither  the  necessity,  however,  nor  its  facility  of  continuing 
it,  seemed  to  have  ceased.  The  Moslems  triumphed  mon 
and  more  in  Asia.  The  Christian  kingdom  founded  at  Jeru- 
salem had  fallen  into  their  hands.  It  still  appeared  necessary 
to  regain  it ;  and  the  means  of  success  were  greater  than  at 
the  commencement  of  the  erusades.  A  great  number  of 
Christians  were  established  and  still  powerful  in  Asia  Minor, 
Syria,  and  Palestine.  The  proper  means  of  tiansport,  and  of 
carrying  on  the  war,  were  better  known.  Still,  nothing  could 
revive  the  spirit  of  the  crusades.  It  is  evident  that  the  two 
great  forces  of  society — the  sovereigns  on  the  one  hand,  and 
the  people  on  the  other — no  longer  desired  their  continuance 

It  has  been  often  said  that  Europe  was  weary  of  these  con-^ 
stent  inroads  upon  Asia.  We  must  come  to  an  understanding 
as  to  the  meaning  of  the  word  weariness,  frequently  used  on 
such  occasions.  It  is  exceedingly  incorrect.  It  is  not  true 
that  generations  of  mankind  can  be  weary  of  what  has  not 
been  done  by  themselves ;  that  they  can  be  wearied  by  the 
fatigues  of  their  fathers.  Weariness  is  personal ;  it  cannot 
be  transmitted  like  an  inheritance.  The  people  of  the  thir- 
teenth century  were  not  weary  of  the  crusades  of  the  twelfth  ; 
they  were  influenced  by  a  different  cause.  A  great  change 
had  taken  place  in  opinions,  sentiments,  antisocial  relations. 
There  were  no  longer  the  same  wants,  or  the  same  desires : 
the  people  no  longer  believed,  or  wished  to  believe,  in  the 
same  things.  It  is  by  these  moral  or  political  changes,  and\ 
not  by  weariness,  that  the  differences  in  the  conduct  of  sucv 


cessive  generations  can  be  explained.    The  pretended  weari^ 

ty 


ness  ascribed  to  them  is  a  metaphor  wholly  destitute  of  trutl 


Two  great  causes,  the  one  moral,  the  other  social,  impelled  j 
Europe  into  the  crusades.  -' 

The  moral  cause,  as  you  are  aware,  was  the  impulse  oi  lej 
ji^ious  feeling  and  belief.  From  the  end  of  the  seventh  uerfA 
tury,  Christianity  maintained  a  constant  stri  ggle  against  Mo- 
hammedanism. It  had  overcome  Mohammedanism  in  Europe, 
after  having  been  threatened  with  great  danger  from  it  ;  and 


180  GENERAL     HISTORY    Of 

had  succeeded  in  confining  it  to  Spain.  Even  from  ihcnci 
the  expulsion  of  Mohammedanism  was  constantly  attempted 
The  crusades  have  been  represented  as  a  sort  of  accident,  an 
unforeseen  event,  sprung  from  the  recitgls  of  pilgrims  return- 
ed from  Jerusalem,  and  the  preaching  of  Peter  the  Hermit. 
(They  were  nothing  of  the  kind.  The  crusades  were  the  con- 
tinuation, the  height  of  the  great  struggle  which  had  subsist- 
ed for  four  centuries  between  Christianity  and  Mohammedan- 
ism. The  theatre  of  this  contest  had  hitherto  been  in  Eu- 
rope ;  it  was  now  transported  into  Asia.  If  I  had  attached 
any  value  to  those  comparisons,  those  parallels,  into  which 
historical  facts  are  sometimes  made  willing  or  unwillingly  to 
enter,  I  might  show  you  Christianity  running  exactly  the  same 
course,  and  undergoing  the  same  destiny  in  Asia,  as  Moham- 
^medanism  in  Europe.  Mohammedanism  established  itself  in 
Spain,  where  it  conquered,  founded  a  kingdom  and  various 
principalities.  The  Christians  did  the  same  thing  in  Asia. 
They  were  there  in  regard  to  the  Mohammedans,  in  the  same 
situation  as  the  Mohammedans  in  Spain  with  regard  to  the 
Christians.  The  kingdom  of  Jerusalem  corresponds  with  the 
kingdom  of  Granada :  but  these  similitudes,  after  all,  are  of 
little  importance.  The  great  fact  was  the  struggle  between 
the  two  religious  and  social  systems  :  the  crusades  were  its 
principal  crisis.  This  is  their  historical  character ;  the  chain 
which  connects  them  with  the  general  course  of  events. 

Another  cause,  the  social  state  of  Europe  in  the  eleventh 
century,  equally  contributed  to  the  breaking  out  of  the  cru- 
sades. I  have  been  careful  to  explain  why,  from  the  fifth  to 
the  eleventh  century,  there  -vas  no  such  thing  as  generality 
in  Europe  ;  I  have  endeavored  to  show  how  every  thing  had 
assumed  a  local  character  ;  how  states,  existing  institutions, 
and  opinions,  were  confined  within  very  narrow  bounds  :  it 
was  then  that  the  feudal  system  prevailed.  After  the  lapse  of 
some  time,  such  a  narrow  horizon  was  no  longer  sufficient ; 
human  thought  and  activity  aspired  to  pass  beyond  the  nar- 
row sphere  in  which  they  were  confined.  The  people  no 
Monger  led  their  former  wandering  life,  but  had  not  lest  the 
taste  for  its  movement  and  its  adventures  ;  they  threw  them- 
selves into  the  crusades  as  into  a  new  state  of  existence,  ifi 
which  they  were  more  at  large,  and  enjoyed  more  variety ; 
which  reminded  them  of  the  freedom  of  former  barbarism, 
while  it  opened  boundless  prospects  of  futurity 


UTILIZATION    in    MODERN    KUROPE.  181 

These  were,  in  my  opinion,  the  two  determining  causes  01 
she  crusades  in  the  twelfth  century.  At  the  end  of  the  thir- 
teenth, neither  of  these  causes  continued  to  exist.     Mankind 

and  society  were  so  greatly  changed,  that  neither  the  moral 
nor  the  social  incitements  which  had  impelled  Europe  upon 
Asia  were  felt  any  longer.  I  do  not  know  whether  many  of 
you  have  read  the  original  historians  of  the  crusades,  or  have 
i ■  v«*r  thought  of  comparing  the  contemporary  chroniclers  of  use 
first  crusades  with  those  of  the  end  of  the  twelfth  and  thir- 
teenth centuries  ;  for  example,  Albert  de  Aix,  Robert  the 
Monk,  and  Kaynard  d'Argile,  who  were  engaged  in  the  first 
crusade  with  William  of  Tyre  and  Jacques  de  Vitry.  When 
we  compare  these  two  classes  of  writers,  it  is  impossible  not 
to  be  struck  with  the  distance  between  them.  The  first  arc 
animated  chroniclers,  whose  imagination  is  excited,  and  who 
relate  the  events  of  the  crusade  with  passion  :  but  they  are 
narrow-minded  in  the  extreme,  without  an  idea  beyond  the 
little  sphere  in  which  they  lived ;  ignorant  of  every  science, 
full  of  prejudices,  incapable  of  forming  an  opinion  on  what 
was  passing  around  them,  or  the  events  which  were  the  sub- 
ject of  their  narratives.  But  open,  on  the  other  hand,  the  his- 
tory of  the  crusades  by  William  of  Tyre,  and  you  will  bo  sur- 
prised to  find  almost  a  modern  historian  ;  a  cultivated,  en- 
larged, and  liberal  mind,  great  political  intelligence,  genera.' 
views  and  opinions  upon  causes  and  effects.  Jacques  de  Vi- 
try is  an  example  of  another  species  of  cultivation ;  he  is  a 
man  of  learning,  who  does  not  confine  himself  to  what  imme- 
diately concerns  the  crusades,  but  describes  the  state  of  man- 
ners, the  geography,  the  religion,  and  natural  history  of  the 
country  to  which  his  history  relates.  There  is,  in  short,  an\ 
immense  distance  between  the  historians  of  the  first  and  of  the ) 
last  crusades  ;  a  distance  which  manifests  an  actual  revolu/ 
tioir  in  the  state  of  the  human  mind. 

This  revolution  is  most  conspicuous  in  the  manner  in  whiclT) 
these  two  classes  of  writers  speak  of  the  Mohammedans.  Foil/ 
the  first  chroniclers, — and  consequently  for  the  first  crusaders, 
of  whose  sentiments  the  first  chroniclers  arc  merely  the  or- 
gans,— the  Mohammedans  are  only  an  object  of  hatred ;  it  is 
clear  that  those  who  speak  of  them  do  not  know  them,  form 
no  judgment  respecting  them,  nor  consider  them  under  any 
point  of  view  but  that  of  the  religious  hostility  which  exists 
between  them  No  vestige  of  social  relation  is  discoverable 
between  them  and  the  Mohammedans  :  thev  detest  them.  aH 


182  GENERA!     HISTORY    OF 

fight  with  them  ;  and  nothing  more.  William  of  Tyre,  Jacques 
de  Vitry,  Bernard  le  Tresorier,  speak  of  the  Mussulmans 
quite  differently.  We  see  that,  even  while  fighting  with  them, 
they  no  longer  regard  them  as  monsters ;  that  they  have 
entered  to  a  certain  extent  into  their  ideas,  that  they  have 
lived  with  them,  and  that  certain  social  relations,  and  even  a 
sort  of  sympathy,  have  arisen  between  them.  William  of 
Tyre  pronounces  a  glowing  eulogium  on  Noureddin  and  Ber- 
nard le  Tresorier  on  Saladin.  They  sometimes  even  go  the 
length  of  placing  the  manners  and  conduct  of  the  Mussulmans 
in  opposition  to  those  of  the  Christians  ;  they  adopt  the  man- 
ners and  sentiments  of  the  Mussulmans  in  order  to  satirise  tho 
Christians,  in  the  same  manner  as  Tacitus  delineated  the 
manners  of  the  Germans  in  contrast  with  those  of  Rome. 
You  see,  then,  what  an  immense  change  must  have  taken 
place  between  these  two  periods,  since  you  find  in  the  latter, 
in  regard  to  the  very  enemies  of  the  Christians,  the  very 
people  against  whom  the  crusades  were  directed,  an  impar- 
tiality of  judgment  which  would  have  filled  the  first  crusaders 
with  surprise  and  horror. 

The  principal  effect,  then,  of  the  crusades  was  a.  great  step 
rvtkUA  towar(ls  tne  emancipation  of  the  mind,  a  great  progress  to- 
\wards  enlarged  and  liberal  ideas.     Though  begun  under  the 
name  and  influence  of  religious  belief,  the  crusades  deprived 
religious  ideas,  I  shall  not  say  of  their  legitimate  share  of  in- 
fluence, but  of  their  exclusive  and  despotic  possession  of  the 
^human  mind.     This  result,  though  undoubtedly  unforeseen, 
arose  from  various  causes.  The  first  was  evidently  the  novel- 
I  ty,  extent,  and  variety  of  the  scene  which  displayed  itself  to 
the  crusaders  ;  what  generally  happens  to  travellers  happened 
to  them.     It  is  mere  common-place  to  say,  that   travelling 
gives  freedom  to  the  mind  ;  that  the  habit  of  observing  diflfer- 
eut  nations,  different  manners,  and  different  opinions,  enlarges 
the  ideas,  and  disengages  the  judgment  from  old  prejudices 
The  same  thing  happened  to  those  nations  of  travellers  who 
have  been  called  the  crusaders  ;  their  minds  were  opened  and 
raised  by  having  seen  a  multitude  of  different  things,  by  hav 
ing  become  acquainted  with  other  manners  than  their  own. 
They  found  themselves  also  placed  in  connexion  with  two 
states  of  civilization,  not  only  different  from  their  own,  but 
more  advanced^ihe  Greek  state  of  society  on  the  one  hand, 
nd  the  Mussulman  on  the  other.     There  is  no  doub*  that  the 


i   tvt 


; 


CIVILISATION    w    MOOBEN    KOROPB. 

losssty  of  the  Greeks,  though  enervated,  pertertod,  and  do- 
raving,  gare  the  crusaders  the  impression  of  something  more 
advanced,  polished,  and  enlightened  than  their  own.  The  so- 
ciety of  the  Mussulmans  presented  them  a  scene  of  the  same 
kind.  It  is  curious  to  observe  in  the  chronicles  the  impres- 
liOB  made  by  the  crusaders  on  the  Mussulmans,  who  regarded 
them  at  first  as  the  most  brutal,  ferocious,  and  stupid  barba- 
rians they  had  ever  seen.  The  crusaders,  on  their  part,  were 
struck  with  the  riches  and  elegance  of  manners  which  they 
observed  among  the  Mussulmans.  These  first  impressions' 
were  succeeded  by  frequent  relations  between  the  Mussul- 
mans and  Christians.  These  became  more  extensive  and  im- 
portant than  is  commonly  believed.  Not  only  had  the  Chris- 
tians of  the  East  habitual  relations  with  the  Mussulmans,  but 
ihc  people  of  the  East  and  the  West  became  acquainted  with, 
visited,  and  mingled  with  each  other.  It  is  but  lately  that  one 
of  those  learned  men  who  do  honor  to  France  in  the  eyes  of 
Europe,  M.  Abel  Remusat,  has  discovered  the  relations  which 
subsisted  between  the  Mongol  emperors  and  the  Christian 
kings.  Mongol  ambassadors  were  sent  to  the  kings  of  the 
Pranks,  and  to  St.  Louis  among  others,  in  order  to  persuade 
them  to  enter  into  alliance,  and  to  resume  the  crusades  for  the 
common  interest  of  the  Mongols  and  the  Christians  against 
the  Turks.  And  not  only  were  diplomatic  and  official  relations 
thus  established  between  the  sovereigns,  but  there  was  much 
and  various  intercourse  between  the  nations  of  the  East  and 
I  shall  quote  the  words  of  M.  Abel  Remusat  :* — 

"Many  men  of  religious  orders,  Italians,  French,  and  Flemings, 
were  charged  with  diplomatic  missions  to  the  court  of  the  Gnat 
Khan.  Mongols  of  distinction  came  to  Rome,  Barcelona,  Valentia, 
Lyons,  Paris,  London,  and  Northampton ;  and  a  Franciscan  of  the 
kingdom  of  Naples  was  archbishop  of  Fekin.  His  successor  was  a 
professor  of  theology  in  the  university  of  Paris.  But  how  many 
othe.  people  followed  in  the  train  of  those  personages,  either  as 
slaves,  or  attracted  by  the  desire  of  profit,  or  led  by  curiosity  into 
regions  hitherto  unknown!  Chance  has  preserved  the  names  of 
some  of  these;  the  first  envoy  who  visited  the  king  of  Hungary  on 
the  part  of  the  Tartars  was  an  Englishman,  who  had  been  banish- 
ed from  his  country  for  certain  crimes,  and  who,  after  having  wan- 
dered over  Asia,  at  last  entered  into  the  service  of  the  Mongols.  A 
Flemish  Cordelier,  in  the  heart  of  Tartary,  fell  in  with  a  weman 


*Memoires  sur  les  Relations  Politique*  drs  Princes  Chretiens  avro  les  EafeVMOl 
Mongols.    Deuxifcnie  Ml  .    1,  107. 


184  GXNERAl    HISTORY    Oi' 

of  Metz  called  Paquelte,  who  had  been  carried  off  into  Hungary 
a  Parisian  goldsmith,  and  a  young  man  from  the  neighborhood  of 
Rouen,  who  had  been  at  the  taking  of  Belgrade.  In  the  same 
country  he  fell  in  also  with  Russians,  Hungarians,  and  Flemings, 
A  singer,  called  Robert,  after  having  travelled  through  Eastern 
Asia,  returned  to  end  his  days  in  the  cathedral  of  Chartres.  A  Tar- 
tar was  a  furnisher  of  helmets  in  the  armies  of  Philip  the  Fair. 
Jean  de  Plancarpin  fell  in,  near  Gayouk,  with  a  Russian  gentleman 
whom  he  calls  Temer,  and  who  acted  as  an  interpreter ;  and  many 
merchants  of  Breslaw,  Poland,  and  Austria,  accompanied  him  in 
'lis  journey  into  Tartary.  Others  returned  with  him  through  Rus- 
sia; they  were  Genoese,  Pisans,  and  Venetians.  Two  Venetians, 
merchants,  whom  chance  had  brought  to  Bokhara,  followed  a  Mon- 
gol ambassador,  sent  by  Houlagou  to  Khoubilai'.  They  remained 
many  years  in  China  and  Tartary,  returned  with  letters  from  the 
Great  Khan  to  the  Pope,  and  afterwards  went  back  to  the  Khan, 
taking  with  them  the  son  of  one  of  their  number,  the  celebrated 
Marco  Polo,  and  once  more  left  the  court  of  Khoubilai'  to  return  to 
Venice.  Travels  of  this  nature  were  not  less  frequent  in  the  fol- 
lowing century.  Of  this  number  are  those  of  John  Mandeville, 
an  English  physician ;  Odenc  de  Frioul,  Pegoletti,  Guilleaume  de 
Bouldeselle,  and  several  others.  It  may  well  be  supposed,  that 
those  travels  of  which  the  memory  is  preserved,  form  but  a  small 
part  of  those  which  were  undertaken,  and  there  were  in  those 
days  many  more  people  who  were  able  to  perform  those  long  jour- 
neys than  to  write  accounts  of  them.  Many  of  those  adventurers 
must  have  remained  and  died  in  the  countries  they  went  to  visit. 
Others  returned  home,  as  obscure  as  before,  but  having  their  imagi- 
nation full  of  the  things  they  had  seen,  relating  them  to  their  fami- 
lies, with  much  exaggeration  no  doubt,  but  leaving  behind  them, 
among  many  ridiculous  fables,  useful  recollections  and  traditions 
capable  of  bearing  fruit.  Thus,  in  Germany,  Italy,  and  France,  in 
the  monasteries,  among  the  nobility,  and  even  down  to  the  lowest 
classes  of  society,  there  were  deposited  many  precious  seeds  des- 
tined to  bud  at  a  somewhat  later  period.  All  these  unknown  tra- 
vellers, carrying  the  arts  of  their  own  country  into  distant  regions, 
brought  back  other  pieces  of  knowledge  not  less  precious,  and, 
without  being  aware  of  it,  made  exchanges  more  advantageous 
than  those  of  commerce.  By  these  means,  not  only  the  traffic  in  ihe 
silks,  porcelain,  and  other  commodities  of  Hindostan,  became  more 
extensive  and  practicable,  and  new  paths  were  opened  to  commer- 
cial industry  and  enterprise;  but,  what  was  more  valuable  still, 
foreign  manners,  unknown  nations,  extraordinary  productions,  pre- 
sented themselves  in  abundance  to  the  minds  of  the  Europeans, 
which,  since  the  fall  of  the  Roman  empire,  had  been  confined  with- 
u\  too  narrow  a  circle.  Men  began  to  attach  some  importance  to 
me  most  beautiful,  the  most  populous,  and  the  most  anciently  civi- 
lized, of  the  four  quarters  of  the  world.  They  began  to  study  the 
arts,  th?  religions,,  the  languages,  of  the  nations  by  whom  it  was 


civilization    in    MODI  i'i:.  J 85 

cohabited;  ami  then  was  even  to  intention  of  establishing  ■  pro* 

ihip  of  the  Tartar  language  in  the  university  of  Paris.  The 
tCCOOnta  of  travellers,  strange  ami  exaggerated,  indeed,  but  soon 
discussed  and  cleared  up,  diffused  more  correct  and  varied  AOtUXU 
of  those  distant  regions.  The  world  seemed  to  open,  as  i*.  were, 
towards  the  Bast;  geography  made  an  immense  stride;  and  ardor 
for  discovery  became  the  new  form  assumed  by  European  spirit  o! 
ndventure.  The  idea  of  another  hemisphere,  when  our  own  camt 
to  be  better  known,  no  longer  seemed  an  improbable  paradox ;  and 
it  was  when  in  search  of  the  Zipangri  of  Marco  Polo  thai  Christo- 
pher Columbus  discovered  the  New  World." 

You  see,  then,  what  a  vast  and  unexplored  world  was  laia\ 
open  to  the  view  of  European  intelligence  by  the  consequen-   \ 
ces  of  the  crusades.     It  cannot  be  doubted  that  the  impulse    ) 
which  led  to  them  was  one  of  the  most  powerful  causes  of   / 
the  development  and  freedom  of  mind  which  arose  out  of  that 
great  event. 

There  is  another  circumstance  which  is  worthy  of  notice  \ 
Down  to  the  time  of  the  crusades,  the  court  of  Rome,  tht«    I 
centre  of  the  Church,  had  been  very  little  in  communication 
with  the  laity,  unless  through  the  medium  of  ecclesiastics ; 
cither  legates  sent  by  the  court  of  Rome,  or  the  whole  body 
of  the  bishops  and  clergy.     There  were  always  some  laymen 
in  direct  relation  with  Rome  ;  but  upon  the  whole,  it  was  by 
means  of  churchmen  that  Rome  had  any  communication  with 
the  people  of  different  countries.     During  the  crusades,  onN 
the  contrary,  Rome  became  a  halting-place  for  a  great  portion  ] 
of  the  crusaders,  either  in  going  or  returning.    A  multitude  of 
laymen  were  spectators  of  its  policy  and  its  manners,  and 
were  able  to  discover  the  share  which  personal  interest  had 
m  religious  disputes.     There  is  no  doubt  that  this  newly-ac- 
quired knowledge  inspired  many  minds  with  a  boldness  hither- 
to unknown. 

When  we  consider  the  state  of  the  general  mind  at  the  ter-\ 
nination  of  the  crusades,  especially  in  regard  to  ecclesiasti-  \ 
cal  matters,  we  cannot  fail  to  be  struck  with  a  singular  fact :    | 
religious  notions  underwent  no  change,  and  were  not  replaced 
by  contrary  or  even  different  opinions.     Thought,  notwith 
Handing,  had  become  more  free  ;  religious  creeds  were  not 
'he  only  subject  on  which  the  human  mind  exercised  its  facul- 
ties ;  w:thout  abandoning  them,  it  began  occasionally  to  wan*  j 
ler  from  them,  and  to  take  other  directions.     Thus,  at  the 


186  GLNERAL    HISTORY    OF 

end  of  the  thirteenth  century,  the  moral  cause  whbh  had  led 
to  the  crusades,  or  which,  at  least,  had  been  their  most  ener- 
getic principle,  had  disappeared ;  the  moral  state  of  Europe 
i  had  undergone  an  essential  modification 


C 


V 


The  social  state  of  society  had  undergone  an  analogous 
change.  Many  inquiries  have  been  made  as  to  the  influence 
of  the  crusades  in  this  respect ;  it  has  been  shown  in  what 
manner  they  had  reduced  a  great  number  of  feudal  proprietors 
to  the  necessity  of  selling  their  fiefs  to  the  kings,  or  to  sell 
their  privileges  to  the  communities,  in  order  to  raise  money 
for  the  crusades. 

It  has  been  shown  that,  in  consequence  of  their  absence, 
many  of  the  nobles  lost  a  great  portion  of  their  power.  With- 
out entering  into  the  details  of  this  question,  we  may  collect 
into  a  few  general  facts  the  influence  of  the  crusades  on  the 
social  state  of  Europe. 

'  They  greatly  diminished  the  number  of  petty  fiefs,  petty 
domains,  and  petty  proprietors  ;  they  concentrated  property 
and  power  in  a  smaller  number  of  hands.  It  is  from  the  time 
of  the  crusades  that  we  may  observe  the  formation  and  growth 
of  great  fiefs — the  existence  of  feudal  power  on  a  large  scale. 

I  have  often  regretted  that  there  was  not  a  map  of  France 
divided  into  fiefs,  as  we  have  a  map  of  France  divided  into 
departments,  arrondissements,  cantons  and  communes^  in  which 
all  the  fiefs  were  marked,  with  their  boundaries,  relations 
with  each  other,  and  successive  changes.  If  we  could  have 
compared,  by  the  help  of  such  maps,  the  state  of  France  be- 
fore and  after  the  crusades,  we  should  have  seen  how  many 
small  fiefs  had  disappeared,  and  to  what  exten4  the  greater 
ones  had  increased.  This  was  one  of  the  most  important  re- 
sults of  the  crusades. 

Even  in  those  cases  where  small  proprietors  preserved  their 
fiefs,  they  did  not  live  upon  them  in  such  an  insulated  state  as 
formerly.  The  possessors  of  great  fiefs  became  so  many 
centres  around  which  the  smaller  ones  were  gathered,  and 
near  which  they  came  to  live.  During  the  crusades,  small 
proprietors  found  it  necessary  to  place  themselves  in  the  train 
,  of  some  rich  and  powerful  chief,  from  whom  they  received 
I  <Y  /assistance  and  support.  They  lived  with  him,  shared  his  for- 
tune,  and  passed  through  the  same  adventures  that  he  did. 
When  the  crusaders  returned  home,  this  social  spirit,  this 
habit  of  living  in  intercourse  with    superiors .  continued   to 


Cn  I    in    HOMEK     MJROl  i:. 

1  had  its  mfluenet  <m  the  manners  of  the  age.    As  ) 
a  th.it  tin*  grant  &efi  were  tncreanod  after  the  i 

M  am  8©©,  also,  that  the  proprietors  of  these  fiefs  hold,  within 
hell  castles,  a  much  more  considerable  court  than  before,  and 
were  surrounded  by  a  greater  number  of  gentlemen,  who  prc- 
*emd  their  little  domains,  but  no  longer  kept  within  them. 
.     The  extension  of  the  great  fiefs,  and  the  creation  of  a  num. 
her  of  centra]  points  in  society,  in  place  of  the  general  dis- 
persion which  previously  existed,  wero   the    two   principal 
sfiecta  of  the  crusades,  considered  with  respect  to  their  in 
fluencc  upon  feudalism. 

As  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  towns,  a  result  of  the  same  na- 
ture may  easily  be  perceived.  The  crusades  created  great^ 
civic  communities.  Petty  commerce  and  petty  industry  were 
not  sufficient  to  give  rise  to  communities  such  as  the  great 
cities  of  Italy  and  Flanders.  It  was  commerce  on  a  great 
scale — maritime  commerce,  and,  especially,  the  commerce  of 
the  East  and  West,  which  gave  them  birth  ;  now  it  was  tho 
crusades  which  gave  to  maritime  commerce  the  greatest  im- 
pulse it  had  yet  received. 

On  the  whole,  when  we  survey  the  state  of  society  at  the| 
end  of  the  crusades,  we  find  that  the  movement  tending  to 
dissolution  and  dispersion,  the  movement  of  universal  locali- 
zation (if  I  may  be  allowed  such  an  expression),  had  ceased, 
mid  had  been  succeeded  by  a  movement  in  the  contrary  di- 
rection, a  movement  of  centralization.  All  things  tended  to 
mutual  approximation  ;  small  things  were  absorbed  in  great- 
ones,  or  gathered  round  them.  Such  was  the  direction  then 
taken  by  the  progress  of  society. 

You  now  understand  why,  at  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  and 
in  the  fourteenth  century,  neither  nations  nor  sovereigns 
wished  to  have  any  more  crusades.  They  neither  needed  nor 
desired  them  ;  they  had  been  thrown  into  them  by  the  impulses 
of  religious  spirit,  and  the  exclusive  dominion  of  religious 
ideas  ;  but  this  dominion  had  now  lost  its  energy.  They  had 
also  sought  in  the  crusades  a  new  way  of  life,  of  a  less  con- 
fined and  more  varied  description;  but  they  began  to  find  thi« 
in  Europe  itself,  in  the  progress  of  the  social  relations.  Il 
was  at  this  time  that  kings  began  to  see  the  road  to  political 
aggrandizement.  Why  go  to  Asia  in  search  of  kindoms,  whefT) 
there  were  kingdoms  to  conquer  at  their  very  doors  ?  Philip 
Augustus  embarl-ed  in  the  crusade  very  unwillingly ;  and m hat 


[88  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

sould  be  moie  natural?  His  desire  was  to  make  himself 
King  of  France.  It  was  the  same  thing  with  the  people.  The 
road  to  wealth  was  open  to  them  ;  and  they  gave  up  adven- 
tures for  industry.  Adventures  were  replaced,  for  sovereigns, 
by  political  projects  ;  for  the  people,  by  industry  on  a  large 
scale.  One  class  only  of  society  still  had  a  taste  for  adven- 
ture ;  that  portion  of  the  feudal  nobility,  who,  not  being  in  a 
condition  to  think  of  political  aggrandizement,  and  not  being 
disposed  to  industry,  retained  their  former  situation  and  man- 
ners. This  class,  accordingly,  continued  to  embark  in  cru- 
sades, and  endeavored  to  renew  them. 

Such,  in  my  opinion,  are  the  real  effects  of  the  crusades ; 

*  on  the  one  hand  the  extension  of  ideas  and  the  emancipation 
of  thought ;  on  the  other,  a  general  enlargement  of  the  social 
sphere,  and  the  opening  of  a  wider  field  for  every  sort  of  ac- 
tivity :  they  produced,  at  the  same  time,  more  individual  free- 

\  dom  and  more  political  unity.  They  tended  to  the  indepen- 
dence of  man  and  the  centralization  of  society.  Many  in- 
quiries have  been  made  respecting  the  means  of  civilization 
which  were  directly  imported  from  the  East.  It  has  been 
said  that  the  largest  part  of  the  great  discoveries  which,  in 
\  the  course  of  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries,  contribut- 
ed to  the  progress  of  European  civilization — such  as  the  com- 
l  pass,  printing,  and  gunpowder — were  known  in  the  East,  and 
that  the  crusaders  brought  them  into  Europe.  This  is  true  to 
a  certain  extent ;  though  some  of  these  assertions  may  be 
disputed.  But  what  cannot  be  disputed  is  this  influence,  this 
general  effect  of  the  crusades  upon  the  human  mind  on  the 
one  hand,  and  the  state  of  society  on  the  other.     They  drew 

r society  out  of  a  very  narrow  road,  to  throw  it  into  new  and 
infinitely  broader  paths  ;  they  began  that  transformation  of  the 
•arious  elements  of  European  society  into  governments  and 
nations,  which  is  the  characteristic  of  modern  civilization. 
/'The  same  period  witnessed  the  development  of  one  of  those 
institutions  which  has  most  powerfully  contributed  to  this 
great  result — monarchy ;  the  history  of  which,  from  the  birth 
of  the  modern  states  of  Europe  to  the  thirteenth  century,  will 
,"orm  the  subject  of  our  next  lecture.20 

20  On  the  subject  of  this  lecture,  see  Mill's  History  of  the  Cm 
gades.  Gibbon  and  Robertson  may  also  be  consulted.  The  best 
works  in  German  are  Frederick  "Wilken's  Geschichte  der  Kreutzuge 
and  Heeren's  Versuck  ciner  Enlwickelung  dcr  Folgcn  der  Kreutzuge 
fur  Eurcpa.     In  French,  Michaud's  Ilistoirc  des  Croisades 


UIV.'LIZATION    IN    MODERN     LUROPI  !  H\i 

The  following  chronological  table  may  serve  to  put  beftm   the 
-indent's  eve  ■  connected  outline  of  the  principal  facts.    Bight 
,  lei  are  enumerated* 

First  Crusade— A.  D.  1096-1100.     Urban  II.  Tope. 
K.  D. 

.094.  Peter  ihe  Hermit  returned  from  a  pilgrimage— by  direction 
of  the  Pope,  preaches  throughout  Europe. 

1095.  Council  of  Clermont  in  France.  (A  previous  council  had 
been  held  at  Plaeen/a.)  Attended  by  the  Pope  and  an  im- 
mense concourse  of  clergy  and  nobles.  The  crusade  proclaim- 
ed— great  privileges,  civil  and  ecclesiastical,  granted  to  all  who 
should  "  assume  the  cross" — a  year  allowed  to  prepare.  Peter 
the  Hermit,  not  waiting,  sets  out  at  the  head  of  a  vast  rabble 
of  un disciplined  fanatics  and  marauders,  who  perish  by  dis- 
ease, famine,  and  the  sword,  in  Asia  Minor. 

1096.  An  army  of  100,000  mounted  and  mailed  warriors,  600,000 
men  capable  of  bearing  arms,  and  a  multitude  of  monks, 
women,  and  children,  depart  from  Europe  and  assemble  on  the 
plains  of  Bythinia,  east  of  Constantinople.  Principal  leaders 
of  the  expedition,  Godfrey  of  Boulougne,  with  his  brothers 
Baldwin  and  Eustace  ;  Robert  II.  duke  of  Normandy;  Robert 
11.  count  of  Flanders ;  Raymond  of  Toulouse ;  Hugh  of  Ver- 
mandois;  Stephen  de  Blois;  Bohemond,  Prince  of  Tarento, 
with  his  nephew  Tancred. 

1097.  Nice  taken  by  the  crusaders. 

1098.  Antioch  and  Edessa  taken. 

1099.  Jerusalem  taken — a  Christian  kingdom,  on  feudal  principles, 
established — the  crown  conferred  on  Godfrey  of  Boulougne. 

Interval  between  the  First  and  Second  Crusades. — 1100-1147. 

Baldwin  I.  succeeds  his  brother  Godfrey  as  king  of  Jerusalem. 
A  new  army  of  crusaders  destroyed  by  the  Saracens  in  Asia  Minor, 
and  the  remnant  of  the  first  army  cut  to  pieces  at  Rama.  St.  Jean 
d'Acre,  (Ptolemais,)  Berytus,  and  Sidon,  taken  by  Baldwin  II.,  suc- 
cessor of  Baldwin  I.  The  Christian  army  unsuccessful — Edessa 
taken  by  the  Turks  in  1144 — continued  ill  success  of  the  Chris- 
thus  leads  to  a  new  crusade. 

Second  Crusade.— 1147-1119.  Eugene  III.  Pope. 
Leaders  of  this  expedition,  Conrad  III.  emperor  of  Germany,  and 
Louis  VII.  king  of  France,  who  set  out  separately  on  their  march. 
Both  armies  destroyed  in  Asia  Minor  by  famine  and  the  sword. — 
The  fugitives  assemble  at  Jerusalem.  Conrad,  Louis,  and  Baldwin 
IIL  king  of  Jerusalem,  lay  siege  to  Damascus — the  enterprise  fails 
ilirough  the  quarrels  of  the  princes — Conrad  and  Louis  return  to 
Europe. 

Interval  between  the  Second  and  Third  Crusades.— 1119-1189. 
Saladin  takes  possession  of  Egypt  and  founds  a  dynasty  in  1175 


190  GENERAL    HISTORY    Ot 

Makes  war  upon  the  Christian  kingdom  of  Jerusalem ;  defeats  Guy 
of  Lusignan  at  the  battle  of  Tiberias;  Guy  taken  prisoner;  St 
Jean  d'Acre  and  Jerusalem  taken.  Conrad  of  Montferrat  lays 
claim  to  the  crown  of  Jerusalem,  and  rallies  the  remains  of  'he 
Christian  forces  at  Tyre. 

Third  Crusade.— 1189-1193.     Clement  III.  Pope. 

Leaders,  FredericK  I.,  (Barbarossa,)  emperor  of  Germany,  Philip 
Augustus,  king  of  France,  and  Richard  I.  of  England. 

Frederick  departs  first  with  an  army  of  100,000  men,  which  is 
entirely  destroyed  in  Asia  Minor.  The  emperor  himself  dies  in 
Cilicia  1190.  His  son  Frederick  of  Suabia  afterwards  killed  at  St. 
Jean  d'Acre. 

1 190.  The  kings  of  France  and  England  embark  by  sea,  and  pass 
the  winter  in  Sicily ;  the  armies  embroiled  by  the  artifices  of 
Tancred,  usurping  king  of  Jerusalem,  and  by  dissension  be- 
tween the  kings. 

1191.  The  armies  of  France  and  England,  with  the  Christian  pir.i- 
ces  of  Syria,  take  St.  Jean  d'Acre.  Philip  Augustus  returns  to 
France,  leaving  a  part  of  his  army  with  Richard — who  dis- 
plays his  bravery  in  some  useless  battles,  but  is  unable  to  re- 
gain Jerusalem. 

1192.  Richard  concludes  a  truce  with  Saladin  and  returns  to  En 
rope. 

Third  Interval.— 1193-1202. 
Saladin  diet — his  dominions  divided  among  the  princes  of  hi" 
r-imily. 

Fourth  Crusade.— 1202-1204.  Innocent  III.  Pope. 
Leaders,  Baldwin  IX.  count  of  Flanders ;  Boniface  II.  marqult 
of  Montferrat ;  Henry  Dandolo,  doge  of  Venice,  etc.  The  kings 
of  Europe  could  not  be  aroused  to  engage  in  this  crusade,  notwith- 
standing all  the  urgency  of  the  Holy  See.  The  chief  command 
was  conferred  by  the  crusaders  on  Boniface  of  Montferrat.  This 
expedition,  however,  never  reached  the  Holy  Land — but  engaged 
in  putting  down  a  usurpation  at  Constantinople,  which  finally  led 
to  the  taking  and  plundering  of  that  city  by  the  crusaders,  and  the 
division  of  the  empire  among  the  conquerors,  of  whom  Baldwin 
was  raised  to  the  imperial  dignity.  The  French  empire  of  Con- 
s''uitinople  was  destroyed  in  1261  by  Michael  Paleologus 

Fourth  Interval.— 1204-1217. 
Meantime  the  Christians  in  the  East,  though  despoiled  of  most 
or  their  possessions,  and  weakened  by  divisions,  bravely  defended 
memselves  against  the  sultans  of  Egypt.  They  continually  invoked 
aid  from  Europe;  but  more  powerful  interests  at  home  made  the 
European  princes  regardless  of  their  calls.  Only  those  of  more  ex 
uited  imaginations  could  be  influenced.  There  was  a  crusade  of 
children  in  1212. 


CIVILIZATION     IN     MOIUKN     F.lUoiV.  1  B  1 

ff^A  CfeiMrit.  BoMrtoi  HI.  Pope 

Three  king*,  John  do  Urienne,  titular  king  of  Jerusalem,  /  ndivW 
Jl.  kin^  of  Hungary,  and  Hugh  of  Lusignan,  king  of  Cyprus, 
united  thetl  forces  at  St  Jean  d'Acre.  The  king  of  Hungary  was 
HOOn  recalled  by  troubles  at  home  ;  Hugh  of  Lusignan  died;  and 
John  de  Brienne  went  to  attack  Egypt  alone.  He  conquered  Da- 
mietta,  and  would  have  obtained  the  restitution  of  Jerusalem  but 
for  the  obstinacy  of  the  Papal  legate,  who  forbade  any  truce  with 
the  infidels.  In  1221  the  crusaders,  after  many  reverses,  submitted 
to  an  humiliating  peace;  and  John  of  Brienne  returning  to  Europe 
gave  his  daughter  in  marriage  to  Frederick  II.  emperor  of  Ger- 
many, who  thereby  became  titular  king  of  Jerusalem. 

Fifth  Interval.— 1221-1228. 

Nothing  remarkable  took  place  in  Syria. 

Sixth  Crusade.— 1228-1229.     Gregory  IX.  Pope. 

Leader,  Frederick  II.  This  emperor  had  taken  the  vows  ol  the 
cross  live  years  before,  and  though  anathematized  by  the  Pope,  had 
failed  to  fulfil  his  engagement.  At  length  he  set  out  by  invitation 
of  the  Sultan  Maledin,  who  yielded  Jerusalem  to  him  by  treaty 
without  battle.  Frederick  was  desirous  to  be  crowned  king  ©f  Je- 
rusalem, but  no  bishop  dared  anoint  an  excommunicated  prince. 
Threatened  with  the  loss  of  his  Italian  dominions,  he  returned 
to  Europe. 

Sixth  Interval.— 1229-1248. 
Anarchy  throughout  the  East,  both  among  the  Christians  and 
Mohammedans.  Jerusalem,  after  being  taken  successively  by  seve- 
ral Saracen  chiefs,  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Sultan  of  Egypt. 

Seventh  Crusade.— 1248-1254.  Innocent  IV.  Pope. 
^  Leaders,  St.  Louis  (IX.)  and  the  French  princes.  The  king  of 
France  engaged  in  this  crusade  in  consequence  of  a  vow  made  du- 
ung  a  dangerous  illness.  Most  of  the  princes  of  the  blood  and 
great  vassals  accompanied  him.  He  turned  his  arms  first  against 
Egypt  and  took  Damielta  in  1250;  but  his  army,  surprised  by  a 
sudden  rising  of  the  Nile,  and  carried  off  in  great  numbers  by  pes- 
tilence, was  surrounded  by  the  Mussulmen,  and  Louis  himself  with 
20,000  of  his  army  was  made  prisoner.  He  obtained  his  liberty, 
however,  by  payment  of  a  heavy  ransom  and  the  surrender  of  Da- 
mietta.  He  remained  four  years  in  Palestine,  repairing  the  fortifi- 
cations of  the  towns  which  yet  remained  in  the  hands  of  the  Chrb* 
nans,  (Ptolemais,  Jaffa,  Sidon,  etc.,)  and  mediating  between  the 
Chris'Aan  and  Mohammedan  princes. 

Seventh  Interval.— 1254-1272. 
The  Mongols,  who,  under  Gengis  Khan,  had  before  overrun  the 
greatest  part  of  Asia,  now  entered  Syria  under  his  son,  having 
already  destroyed  the  Califate  of  Bagdad  in  1258.     They  wor" 


1U2  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF    CIVILIZATION. 

driven  from  Syria  by  the  sullan  of  Egypt,  Bibars,  by  whom  also 
Damascus,  Tyre,  Jaffa,  and  Antioch  were  seized. 

Eighth  Crusade.— -1270.  Clement  IV.  Pope. 
Leaders,  Louis  IX. ;  Charles  of  Anjou  ;  Edward,  prince  of  Eng- 
land, afterwards  Edward  I.  This  expedition  was  first  directed  to 
the  coast  of  Africa;  Louis  debarked  before  Tunis  and  laid  siege  to 
that  city:  but  the  army  was  cut  down  by  the  blague,  to  which 
Louis  himself  and  one  of  his  sons  fell  victims.  Charles  of  Anjou 
his  brother  made  peace  with  the  Mohammedans  and  renounced 
the  expedition  to  the  Holy  Land.     Tbis  was  the  last  crusade 

End  of  the  Christian  power  in  Syria. — 1270-1291. 
There  remained  now  but  four  places  in  the  possession  of  the 
Christians  on  the  eastern  shore  of  the  Mediterranean:  Tripoli; 
Tyre  ;  Berytus ;  and  St.  Jean  d'Acre.  These  successively  yielded 
to  the  Saracens,  the  last  in  1291 .  The  various  orders  of  religious 
knights,  sworn  to  the  defence  of  the  Holy  Land,  withdrew  at  first 
to  the  Island  of  Cyprus.  In  1310,  the  Hospitallers  established  them- 
selves at  Rhodes ;  in  1312,  the  order  of  the  Templars  was  abolisn-' 
ed:  in  1300,  the  Teutonic  knights  transferred  the  seat  of  their 
:>rSer  to  Courland,  where  they  laid  the  foundation  of  a  dominion 
which  continued  powerful  for  a  long  period. — See  Des  Michele 
Wist,  du  Moyen  Age. 


LKCTUHE  1  X 

OF    MONARCHY. 

I  endeavored,  at  our  last  meetiog,  to  deteraiine  the  efcsen- 
liiil  and  distinctive  character  of  modern  society  as  compared 
with  the  primitive  state  of  society  in  Europe  ;  and  I  believed 
I  had  found  it  in  this  fact,  that  all  the  elements  of  the  socia^ 
state,  at  first  numerous  and  various,  were  reduced  to  two— \ 
the  government  on  one  hand,  and  the  people  on  the  other./ 
Instead  of  finding,  in  the  capacity  of  ruling  forces  and  chief 
agents  in  history,  the  clergy,  kings,  citizens,  husbandmen, 
and  serfs,  we  now  find  in  modern  Europe,  only  two  great  ob- 
jects which  occupy  the  historical  stage — the  government  and 
the  nation. 

If  such  is  the  fact  to  which  European  civilization  has  led, 
such,  also,  is  the  result  to  which  our  researches  should  con- 
duct us.  We  must  see  the  birth,  the  growth,  the  progressive 
establishment  of  this  great  result.  We  have  entered  upon  the 
period  to  which  we  can  trace  its  origin  :  it  was,  as  you  have 
seen,  between  the  twelfth  and  the  sixteenth  centuries  that 
those  slow  and  hidden  operations  took  place  which  brought  y 
society  into  this  new  form,  this  definite  state.  We  have  also 
considered  the  first  great  event  which,  in  my  opinion,  evident- 
ly had  a  powerful  effect  in  impelling  Europe  into  this  road  ; 
I  mean  the  crusades. 

About  the  same  period,  and  almost  at  the  very  time  when 
the  crusades  broke  out,  that  institution  began  to  increase, 
vrhich  has  perhaps  chiefly  contributed  to  the  formation  of 
modern  society,  and  to  the  fusion  of  all  the  social  elements 
into  two  forces,  the  government  and  the  people.  This  insti- 
tution is  roonarchy. 

It  is  evident  that  monarchy  has  played  a  vast  part  in  the 
history  of  European  civilization.  Of  this  we  may  convince 
'jursehes  by  a  single  glance.      Wo    ;oe  the  development  of 


194  GENERAL    HISTORY    Ob 

monarchy  proceed,  for  a  considerable  time,  at  the  same  rate 
as  that  of  society  itself:  they  had  a  common  progression. 
And  not  only  had  they  a  common  progression,  but  with  every 
step  that  society  made  towards  its  definitive  and  modern  char 
acter,  monarchy  seemed  to  increase  and  prosper ;  so  that 
when  .he  work  was  consummated — wnen  there  remained,  in 

the  great  states  of  Europe,  little  or  no  important  and  decisive 
influence  but  that  of  the  government  and  the  public — it  was 
\   monarchy  that  became  the  government. 

It  was  not  only  in  France,  where  the  fact  is  evident,  thfit 
this  happened,  but  in  most  of  the  countries  of  Europe.  A 
little  sooner  or  later,  and  under  forms  somewhat  diiferent,  the 
history  of  society  in  England,  Spain,  and  Germany,  offers  us 

^the  same  result.     In  England,  for  example,  it  was  under  the 
(  Tudors  that  the  old  particular  and  local  elements  of  English 
"  society  were  dissolved  and  mingled,  and  gave  way  to  the  sys- 
tem of  public   authorities ;  this,  also,  was  the   period  when 
monarchy  had  the  greatest  influence.     It  was  the  same  thing 
in  Germany,  Spain,  and  all  the  great  European  states. 

If  we  leave  Europe,  and  cast  our  eyes  over  the  rest  of  the 
v/orld,  we  shall  be  struck  with  an  analogous  fact.     Every- 

/"where  we  shall  find  monarchy  holding  a  great  place,  and  ap- 
I   pearing  as  the  most  general  and  permanent,  perhaps,  of  all 

institutions  ;  as  that  which  is  the  most  difficult  to  preclude 
where  it  does  not  exist,  and,  where  it  does  exist,  the  most 
difficult  to  extirpate.  From  time  immemorial  it  has  had  pos- 
session of  Asia.  On  the  discovery  of  America,  all  the  great 
states  of  that  continent  were  found,  with  different  combina- 
tions, under  monarchical  governments.  When  we  penetrate 
into  the  interior  of  Africa,  wherever  we  meet  with  nations  of 
any  extent,  this  is  the  government  which  prevails.  And  nol 
only  has  monarchy  penetrated  everywhere,  but  it  has  accom 
modai-ed  itself  to  the  most  various  situations,  to  civilization 
and  barbarism :  to  the  most  peaceful  manners,  as  in  China, 
and  to  those  in  which  a  warlike  spirit  predominates.  It  has 
established  itself  not  only  in  the  midst  of  the  system  of  castes^ 
in  countries  whose  social  economy  exhibits  the  most  rigorous 
distinction  of  ranks,  but  also  in  the  midst  of  a  system  of  equal- 
ity, in  countries  where  society  is  most  remote  from  every  kind 
of  legal  and  permanent  classification.  In  some  places  de- 
spotic and  oppressive  ;  in  others  favorable  to  the  progress  of 
civilisation  and  even  of  liberty  ;  i*  is  like  a  head  tliat  maybe 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MOM  DPI  IW 

placed  on  :nai:y  different  bodies,  a  fruit  that  may  gro  rr  Iron. 
many  different  buds. 

In  this  fact  wo  might  discover  many  important  and  curious 
consequences.  I  shall  take  only  two  ;  the  first  is,  that  such  \  1 
a  result  cannot  possibly  be  the  offspring  of  mere  chance,  of 
force  or  usurpation  only  ;  that  there  must  necessarily  be,  be- 
tween the  nature  of  monarchy  considered  as  an  institution,  and 
ihe  nature  either  of  man  as  an  individual  or  of  human  so-  i 
ciety,  a  strong  and  intimate  analogy.  Force,  no  doubt,  has 
bad  its  share,  both  in  the  origin  and  progress  of  the  institu- 
tion ;  but  as  often  as  you  meet  with  a  result  like  this,  as  often 
as  you  see  a  great  event  develop  itself  or  recur  during  a  long 
series  of  ages,  and  in  the  midst  of  so  many  different  situations, 
never  ascribe  it  to  force.  Force  performs  a  great  and  daily 
part  in  human  affairs ;  but  it  is  not  the  principle  which  governs 
their  movements  :  there  is  always,  superior  to  force,  and  the 
part  which  it  performs,  a  moral  cause  which  governs  the 
general  course  of  events.  Force,  in  the  history  of  society, 
resembles  the  body  in  the  history  of  man.  The  body  assur- 
edly holds  a  great  place  in  the  life  of  man,  but  is  not  the/ 
principle  of  life.  Life  circulates  in  it,  but  does  not  emanate) 
from  it.  Such  is  also  the  case  in  human  society  ;  whatever 
part  force  may  play  in  them,  it  does  not  govern  them,  or  ex- 
ercise a  supreme  control  over  their  destinies  ;  this  is  the  pro- 
vince of  reason,  of  the  moral  influences  which  are  hidden 
under  the  accidents  of  force,  and  regulate  the  course  of  so- 
ciety. We  may  unhesitatingly  declare  that  it  was  to  a  cause  ' 
of  this  nature,  and  not  to  mere  force,  that  monarchy  was  in- 
debted for  its  success.  v 

A  second  fact  of  almost  equal  importance  is  the  flexibility  \ 
jf  monarchy,  and  its  faculty  of  modifying  itself  and  adapting  j 
itself  to  a  variety  of  different  circumstances.  Observe  the 
contrast  which  it  presents  ;  its  form  reveals  unity,  permanence, 
simplicity.  It  does  not  exhibit  that  variety  of  combinations 
which  are  found  in  other  institutions  ;  yet  it  accommodates  it- 
self to  the  most  dissimilar  states  of  society.  It  becomes  evi- 
dent then  ,hat  it  is  susceptible  of  great  diversity,  and  capabl'* 
of  being  attached  to  many  different  elements  and  principles 
both  in  man  as  an  individual  and  in  society. 

It  is  because  we  have  not  considered  monarchy  in  all  its 

extent;  because  we  have  not,  on   the  one     hand,  discovered 


196  GENERAL    HISTORY    O? 

the  principle  which  forms  its  essence  and  subsists  under  every 
circumstance  to  which  it  may  be  applied  ;  and  because,  on  the 
other  hand,  we  have  not  taken  into  account  all  the  variations 
to  which  it  accommodates  itself,  and  all  the  principles  with 
which  it  can  enter  into  alliance  ; — it  is,  I  say,  because  we 
have  not  considered  monarchy  in  this  twofold,  this  enlarged 
point  of  view,  that  we  have  not  thoroughly  understood  the 
part  it  has  performed  in  the  history  of  the  world,  and  have 
often  been  mistaken  as  to  its  nature  and  effects. 

This  is  the  task  which  I  should  wish  to  undertake  with 
you,  so  as  to  obtain  a  complete  and  precise  view  of  the  effects 
of  this  institution  in  modern  Europe  ;  whether  they  have  flow- 
ed from  its  intrinsic  principle,  or  from  the  modifications* 
which  it  has  undergone. 


There  is  no  doubt  that  the  strength  of  monarchy,  that  moral 
power  which  is  its  true  principle,  does  not  reside  in  the  per- 
sonal will  of  the  man  who  for  the  time  happens  to  be  king ; 
there  is  no  doubt  that  the  people  in  accepting  it  as  an  insti- 
tution, that  philosophers  in  maintaining  it  as  a  system,  have 
not  meant  to  accept  the  empire  of  the  will  of  an  individual — 
a  will  essentially  arbitrary,  capricious,  and  ignorant. 

Monarchy  is  something  quite  different  from  the  will  of  an 
individual,  though  it  presents  itself  under  that  form.  It  is  the 
personification  of  legitimate  sovereignty — of  the  collective  will 
and  aggregate  wisdom  of  a  people — of  that  will  which  is  es- 
sentially reasonable,  enlightened,  just,  impartial, — which 
knows  naught  of  individual  wills,  though  by  the  title  of  legit- 
imate monarchy,  earned  by  these  conditions,  it  has  the  right 
to  govern  them.  Such  is  the  meaning  of  monarchy  as  un- 
derstood by  the  people,  and  such  is  the  motive  of  their  adhe- 
sion to  it. 

Is  it  true  that  there  is  a  legitimate  sovereignty,  a  will  which 
has  a  right  to  govern  mankind  1  They  certainly  believe  that 
[here  is ;  for  they  endeavor,  have  always  endeavored,  and 
cannot  avoid  endeavoring,  to  place  themselves  under  its  em- 
pire. Conceive,  I  shall  not  say  a  people,  but  the  smallest 
community  of  men  ;  conceive  it  in  subjection  to  a  sovereign 
who  is  such  only  de  facto,  to  a  power  which  has  no  othei 
right  but  that  of  force,  which  does  not  govern  by  the  title  of 
reason  and  justice  ;  human  nature  instantly  revolts  against  a 


CIVILIZATION     IN     MOPhlN     KIKOI'K  1  *. » 7 

sovereignty  such  M  this.      Human  nature-,  fhorcforc,  must  be- 
lieve in  legitimate  sovereignty.     It  is  this  sovereignty  alone, 
he  sovereignty  dc  jure,  which  man  seeks  for,  and  which  alone 
he  consents  to  obey.     What  is  history  but  a  demonstration  of 
this  universal  fact?     What  are  most  of  the  struggles  which 
harass  the  lives  of  nations  but  so  many  determined  impuleee 
cowards  this  legitimate  sovereignty,  in  order  to  place  them- 
8ch  *s  under  its  empire  ?     And  it  is  not  only  the  people,  bul 
philosophers,  who  firmly  believe  in  its  existence  and  inces- 
santly seek  it.     What  are  all  the  systems  of  political  philoN 
sophy  but  attempts  to  discern  the  legitimate  sovereignty?) 
What  is  the  object  of  their  investigations  but  to  discover  who! 
has  the  right  to  govern  society  ?     Take  theocracy,  monarchy, 
aristocracy,  democracy;  they  all  boast  of  having  disccvered\ 
the  seat  of  legitimate  sovereignty  ;  they  all  promise  to  place 
society  under  the  authority  of  its  rightful  master.     This,  I  re- 
peat, is  the  object  of  all  the  labor  of  philosophers,  as  well  as 
of  all  the  efforts  of  nations. 

How  can  philosophers  and  nations  do  otherwise  than  be- 
lieve in  this  legitimate  sovereignty  ?  How  can  they  do  other 
wise  than  strive  incessantly  to  discover  it  ?  Let  us  suppose 
the  simplest  case  ;  for  instance,  some  act  to  be  performed, 
either  affecting  society  in  general,  or  some  portion  of  its  mem- 
bers, or  even  a  single  individual ;  it  is  evident  that  in  such  a 
case  there  must  be  some  rule  of  action,  some  legitimate  will 
to  be  followed  and  applied.  Whether  we  enter  into  the  most 
minute  details  of  social  life,  or  participate  in  its  most  moment- 
ous concerns,  we  shall  always  meet  with  a  truth  to  be  dis- 
covered, a  law  of  reason  to  be  applied  to  the  realities  of  hu- 
man affairs.  It  is  this  law  which  constitutes  that  legitimate 
sovereignty  towards  which  both  philosophers  and  nations  have 
never  ceased,  and  can  never  cease,  to  aspire. 

But  how  far  can  legitimate  sovereignty  be  represented,  ) 
generally  and  permanently,  by  an  earthly  power,  by  a  human 
will  1  Is  there  anything  necessarily  false  and  dangerous  in 
sucr  an  assumption  ?  What  are  we  to  think  in  particular  of 
lie  personification  of  legitimate  sovereignty  under  the  image 
of  royalty  1  On  what  conditions,  and  within  what  limits,  is 
this  personification  admissible  ?  These  are  great  questions, 
which  it  is  not  my  business  now  to  discuss,  but  which  I  can 
not  avoid  noticing,  and  on  which  1  shall  say  a  few  words  in 
passing. 


198  GENERAL    HISTORY     UP 

/  1  affirm,  and  the  plainest  common  sense  must  admit,  thut 
legitimate  sovereignty,  in  its  complete  and  permanent  form, 
cannot  belong  to  any  one  ;  and  that  every  attribution  of  legiti- 
mate sovereignty  to  any  human  power  whatever  is  radically 
false  and  dangerous.  Thence  arises  the  necessity  of  fhe  limi- 
tation of  every  power,  whatever  may  be  its  name  or  form; 
thence  arises  the  radical  illegitimacy  of  every  sort  of  abso- 
lute power,  whatever  may  be  its  origin,  whether  conquest,  in- 
heritance, or  election.  We  may  differ  as  to  the  best  means 
of  finding  the  legitimate  sovereignty ;  they  vary  according  to 
the  diversities  of  place  and  time  ;  but  there  is  no  place  or  time 
at  which  any  power  can  legitimately  be  the  independent  pos- 
sessor of  this  sovereignty. 

This  principle  being  laid  down,  it  is  equally  certain  that 
,■  monarchy,  under  whatever  system  we  consider  it,  presents 
\  itself  as  the  personification  of  the  legitimate  sovereignty. 
Listen  to  the  supporters  of  theocracy ;  they  will  tell  you  that 
Kings  are  the  image  of  God  upon  earth,  which  means  nothing 
more  than  that  they  are  the  personification  of  supreme  justice, 
truth,  and  goodness.  Turn  to  the  jurists ;  they  will  tell  you 
that  the  king  is  the  living  law ;  which  means,  again,  that  the 
king  is  the  personification  of  the  legitimate  sovereignty,  of 
that  law  of  justice  which  is  entitled  to  govern  society.    Inter- 

(rogate  monarchy  itself  in  its  pure  and  unmixed  form ;  it  will 
tell  you  that  it  is  the  personification  of  the  state,  of  the  com* 
monwealth.  In  whatever  combination,  in  whatever  situation 
monarchy  is  considered,  you  will  find  that  it  is  always  held 
out  as  representing  this  legitimate  sovereignty,  this  power, 
which  alone  is  capable  of  lawfully  governing  society. 

We  need  not  be  surprised  at  this.  What  are  the  charac- 
teristics of  this  legitimate  sovereignty,  and  which  are  derived 
from  its  very  nature  1  In  the  first_place,  it  is  single  ;  since 
there  is  but  one  truth,  one  justice,  so  there  can  be  but  one  le- 
gitimate sovereignty.  It  is,  moreover,  permanent,  and  alwayo 
the  same,  for  truth  is  unchangeable.     It  stands  on  a  high  van- 

C  .age-ground,  beyond  the  reach  of  the  vicissitudes  and  chancee 
•>f  this  world,  with  which  it  is  only  connected  in  the  charac* 
ter,  as  it  were,  of  a  spectator  and  a  judge.  Well,  then,  these 
being  the  rational  and  natural  characteristics  of  the  legitimate 
;  sovereignty,  it  is  monarchy  which  exhibits  them  under  the 
most  palpable  form,  and  seems  to  be  their  most  faithful  image 


*  1VILIZATI0N    CI    MODERN    EUROPE.  109 

Uwnsult  tho  work  in  which  M.  Benjamin  Constant  has  so  in- 
>uslv  represented  monarchy,  as  a  neutral  and  moderating 
[lower,  raised  far  above  the  struggles  and  casualties  of  society 
mil  never  interfering  but  in  great  and  critical  conjunctures 
Is  not  this,  so  to  speak,  the  attitude  of  the  legitimate  sove- 
reignty, in  the  government  of  human  a  (fairs  1  There  must  be 
something  in  this  idea  peculiarly  calculated  to  strike  the  mind, 
for  it  has  passed,  with  singular  rapidity,  from  books  into  the 
actual  conduct  of  affairs.  A  sovereign  has  made  it,  in  the 
constitution  of  Brazil,  the  very  basis  of  his  throne.  In  that 
constitution,  monarchy  is  represented  as  a  moderating  DOW 
jW,  elevated  above  the  active  powers  of  the  state,  like  th«'ir 
spectator  and  their  judge.  v 

Under  whatever  point  of  view  you  consider  mo.iarchy,  ^ 
when  you  compare  it  with  the  legitimate  sovereignty,  you  will    j 
find  a  great  outward  resemblance  between  them — a  resem-  / 
blance  with  which  the  human  mind  must  necessarily  have/ 
been   struck.     Whenever  the  reflection  or  the  imagination 
of  men  has  especially  turned  towards  the  contemplation  or 
study  of  legitimate  sovereignty,  and  of  its  essential  qualities, 
it  has  inclined  towards  monarchy.     Thus  in  the  times  when 
religious  ideas  preponderated,  the  habitual  contemplation  of 
the  nature  of  God  impelled  mankind  towards  the  monarchical 
system.     In  the  same  manner,  when  the  influence  of  jurists 
prevailed  in  society,  the  habit  of  studying,  under  the  name  of 
law,  the  nature  of  the  legitimate  sovereignty,  was  favorable 
to  the  dogma  of  its  personification  in  the  institution  of  monar- 
chy.    The  attentive  application  of  the  human  mind  to  the 
contemplation  of  the  nature  and  qualities  of  the  legitimate 
sovereignty,  when  there  were  no  other  causes  to  destroy  its 
effect,  has  always  given  strength  and  consideration  to  mon- 
archy, as  being  its  image 

There  are,  too,  certain  junctures,  which  are  particularly' 
favorable  to  this  personification  ;  such,  for  example,  as  when 
individual  forces  display  themselves  in  the  world  with  all  their 
uncertainties  ;  all  their  waywardness  ;  when  selfishness  pre- 
dominates in  individuals,  either  through  ignorance  and  bru- 
tality, or  through  corruption.  At  such  times,  society,  distract- 
ed by  the  conflict  of  individual  wills,  and  unable  to  attain,  by 
their  free  concurrence,  to  a  general  will,  which  might  hold 
them  in  subjection,  fcols  an  ardent  desire  for  a  sovereign  pow- 
er, to  which  all  individuals  must  submit ;  and,  as  soon  as  any 
institution  presents  itself  which  bears  any  of  the  characterif 


200  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

tics  of  legitimate  sovereigi.ty,  society  rallies  round  it  with 
eagerness  ;  as  people,  under  proscription,  take  refuge  in  the 
^sanctuary  of  a  church.  This  is  what  has  taken  place  in  the 
wild  and  disorderly  youth  of  nations,  such  as  those  we  have 
passed  through.  Monarchy  is  wonderfully  suited  to  thoss 
times  of  strong  and  fruitful  anarchy,  if  I  may  so  speak,  in 
which  society  is  striving  to  form  and  regulate  itself,  but  is  un 
able  to  do  so  by  the  free  concurrence  of  individual  wills 
There  are  other  times  when  monarchy,  though  from  a  con- 
trary cause,  has  the  same  merit.    Why  did  the  Roman  world, 

/so  near  dissolution  at  the  end  of  the  republic,  still  subsist  for 

/  more  than  fifteen  centuries,  under  the  name  of  an  empire, 
which,  after  all,  was  nothing  but  a  lingering  decay,  aprotract- 

k    ed  death-struggle  ?     Monarchy,  alone,  could  produce  such  an 
/  effect ;  monarchy,  alone,  could  maintain  a  state  of  society 

(  which  the  spirit  of  selfishness  incessantly  .  tejodad.to  destroy. 
The  imperial  power  contended  for  fifteen  centuries  against  the 
ruin  of  the  Roman  world. 

It  thus  appears  that  there  are  times  when  monarchy,  alone, 
can  retard  the  dissolution,  and  times  when  it,  alone,  can  ac- 
celerate the  formation  of  society.  And  it  is,  in  both  cases, 
because  it  represents,  more  clearly  than  any  other  form  of 
government  can  do,  the  legitimate  sovereignty,  that  it  exer- 
cises this  power  over  the  course  of  events. 

Under  whatever  point  of  view  you  consider  this  institution, 
and  at  whatever  period  you  take  it,  you  will  find,  therefore, 
that  its  essential  character,  its  moral  principle,  its  true  mean- 
ing, the  cause  of  its  strength,  is,  its  being  the  image,  the  per 
Bonification,  the  presumed  interpreter,  of  that  single,  superior, 
and  essentially  legitimate  will,  which  alone  has  a  right  to 
govern  society. 


Let  us  now  consider  monarchy  under  the  second  point  of 
view,  that  is  to  say,  in  its  flexibility,  the  variety  of  parts  it 
nas  performed  and  of  effects  it  has  produced.  Let  us  en- 
deavor to  account  for  this  character,  and  ascertain  its  causes. 

Here  we  have  an  advantage  ;  we  can  at  once  return  to  his* 
tory,  and  to  the  history  of  our  own  country.  By  a  concur- 
rence of  singular  circumstances,  monarchy  in  modern  Europe 
lias  but  one  very  character  which  it  has  ever  exhibited  in  the 
history  of  the  world,     European  monarchy  has  been,  in  some 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROTF.  201 

.sort,  the  result  of  all  the  possible  kinds  of  monarchy.  In 
-.inning  over  its  history,  from  the  fifth  to  the  twelfth  century, 
you  will  see  the  variety  of  aspects  under  which  it  appears, 
md  the  extent  to  which  we  everywhere  find  that  variety,  com- 
plication, and  contention,  which  characterize  the  whole  course 
of  European  civilization. 

In  the  fifth  century,  at  the  time  of  the  great  invasion  of  the  ^"^  m 
Germans,  two  monarchies  were  in  existence — the  barbarian   *-**^ 
monarchy  of  Clovis,  and  the  imperial  monarchy  of  Constan- 
tine.     They  were  very  different  from  each  other  in  principles 
and  effects. 

The  barbarian  monarchy  was  essentially  elective.^  The 
German  lungs  wore  elected,  though  their  election  did  not  take 
place  in  the  form  to  which  we  are  accustomed  to  attach  that 
idea.  They  were  military  chiefs,  whose  power  was  freely 
accepted  by  a  great  number  of  their  companions,  by  whom 
they  were  obeyed  as  being  the  bravest  and  most  competent  to  ^iv^ 
rule.  Election  was  the  true  source  of  this  barbarian  monar} 
chy,  its  primitive  and  essential  character. 

It  is  true  that  this  character,  in  the  fifth  century,  was  al- 
ready somewhat  modified,  and  that  different  elements  were 
introduced  into  monarchy.  Different  tribes  had  possessed 
their  chiefs  for  a  certain  space  of  time ;  families  had  arisen, 
more  considerable  and  wealthier  than  the  rest.  This  produced 
the  beginning  of  hereditary  succession ;  the  chief  being  al- 
most always  chosen  from  these  families.  This  was  the  first 
principle  of  a  different  nature  which  became  associated  with 
the  loading  principle  of  election.  ^ 

Another  element  had  already  entered  into  the  institution  of ") 
barbarian  monarchy — Ijriean  the  element  of  religion.     We  y 
find  among  some  of  the  barbarian  tribes — the  Goths,  for  ex- 
ample— the  conviction  that  the  families  of  their  kings  were 
descended  from  the  families  of  their  gods  or  of  their  deified  >c^>u*< 
heroes,  such  as  Odin.    This,  too,  was  the  case  with  Homer's 
monarchs,  who  were  the  issue  of  gods  or  demi-gods,  and,  by 
this  title,  objects  of  religious  veneration,  notwithstanding  the 
imited  extent  of  their  power. 

Such  was  the  barbarian  monarchy  of  the  fifth  century, 
whose  primitive  principle  still  predominated,  though  it  had 
tteelf  grown  diversified  and  wavering. 


* 


202  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

I  now  take  the  monarchy  of  the  Roman  empire,  the  prirv 
ciple  of  which  was  totally  different.     It  was  the  personifica- 
tion of  the  state,  the  heir  of  the  sovereignty  and  majesty  of 
\  the  Roman  people.     Consider  the  monarchy  of  Augustus  oi 
) Tiberius  :  the  emperor  was  the  representative  of  the  senate-, 
the  assemblies  of  the  people,  the  whole  republic. 

Was  not  this  evident  from  the  modest  language  of  the  fire! 
emperors — of  such  of  them,  at  least,  as  were  men  of  sense 
and  understood  their  situation  1  They  felt  that  they  stood  in 
the  presence  of  the  people,  who  themselves  had  lately  pos- 
sessed the  sovereign  power,  which  they  had  abdicated  in  theii 
favor ;  and  addressed  the  people  as  their  representatives  and 
ministers.  But  in  reality  they  exercised  all  the  power  of  the 
people,  and  that,  too,  in  its  most  exaggerated  and  fearful  form. 
Such  a  transformation  it  is  easy  for  us  to  comprehend  ;  we 
have  witnessed  it  ourselves  ;  we  have  seen  the  sovereign- 
ty transferred  from  the  people  to  the  person  of  a  single  indi- 
vidual ;  this  was  the  history  of  Napoleon.  He  also  was  a 
personification  of  the  sovereignty  of  the  people  ;  and  con- 
stantly expressed  himself  to  that  effect.  "  Who  has  been 
elected,"  he  said,  "  like  me,  by  eighteen  millions  of  men  ? 
who  is,  like  me,  the  representative  of  the  people  V  and  when, 
upon  his  coins,  we  read  on  one  side  Republique  Frangaise, 
and  on  the  other  Napoleon  Empercvr,  what  is  this  but  an  ex- 
ample of  the  fact  which  I  am  describing,  of  the  people  having 
become  the  monarch  1      I <r»'%^^t  /^«/c<s*><-  ,'"r-*$ 

Such  was  the  fundamental  character  of  the  imperial  mo- 
narchy ;  it  preserved  this  character  during  the  three  first  cen 
turies  of  the  empire ;  and  it  was,  indeed,  only  under  Diocle- 
tian that  it  assumed  its  complete  and  definitive  form.  It  was 
then,  however,  on  the  eve  of  undergoing  a  great  change ;  a 

/  new  kind  of  monarchy  was  about  to  appear.  During  three 
centuries  Christianity  had  been  endeavoring  to  introduce  into 
the  empire  the  element  of  religion.  It  was  under  Constan- 
tino that  Christianity  succeeded,  not  in  making  religion  the 
prevailing  element,  but  in  giving  it  a  prominent  part  to  per- 
form. Monarchy  here  presents  itself  under  a  different  aspect ; 
xjliM^^  it  is  not  of  earthly  origin  :  the  prince  is  not  the  representa- 
tive of  the  sovereignty  of  the  public ;  he  is  the  image,  the 
repicsentative,  the  delegate  of  God.    Power  descends  to  him 

f  from  on  high,  while,  in  the  imperial  monarchy,  power  had  as- 
oonded  from  below.     These  wer3  *otally  different  situations, 


ri\  ii.i/.a  i  ion    in    mowkrn    EUROI  203 

*ith  tota  iy  ditlerent  results.  Tho  rights  of  freedom  ami  po 
meal  securities  are  diflicult  to  combine  with  tho  principle  of 
religious  monarchy  ;  but  the  principle  itself  is  high,  moral, 
and  salutary.  1  shall  show  you  the  idea  which  was  formed 
of  the  prince,  in  the  seventh  century,  under  the  system  of  re- 
ligious monarchy.  I  take  it  from  the  canons  of  the  Council 
o(  Toledo. 

"  The  king  is  called  rrx  because  he  governs  with  justice 
If  he  acts  justly  (rede)  he  has  a  legitimate  title  to  the  name 
of  king ;  if  he  acts  unjustly,  he  loses  all  claim  to  it.  Our 
fathers,  therefore,  said  with  reason,  rex  ejus  cris  si  recta  facts  ; 
ft  mtUm  nonfacis,  non  cris.  The  two  principal  virtues  of  a 
king  are  justice  and  truth,  (the  science  of  truth,  reascn.) 

"  The  depositary  of  the  royal  power,  no  less  than  the  whole 
body  of  the  people,  is  bound  to  respect  the  laws.  While  we 
obey  the  will  of  heaven,  we  make  for  ourselves,  as  well  as 
our  subjects,  wise  laws,  obedience  to  which  is  obligatory  on 
ourselves  and  our  successors,  as  well  as  upon  all  the  popula- 
tion of  our  kingdom.         *         *         *  *         * 

"  God,  the  creator  of  all  things,  in  constructing  the  human 
body,  has  raised  the  head  aloft,  and  has  willed  that  from  it 
should  proceed  the  nerves  of  all  the  members,  and  he  has 
placed  in  the  head  the  torches  of  the  eyes,  in  order  to  throw 
light  upon  every  dangerous  object.  In  like  manner  he  has 
established  the  power  of  intelligence,  giving  it  the  charge  of 
governing  all  the  members,  and  of  prudently  regulating  their  / 
action.  #****#•*« 

"  It  is  necessary  then  to  regulate,  first  of  all,  those  things 
which  relate  to  princes,  to  provide  for  their  safety,  and  protect 
their  life,  and  then  those  things  which  concern  the  people,  in 
such  a  manner,  that  in  properly  securing  the  safety  of  kings, 
that  of  the  people  may  be,  at  the  same  time,  and  so  much  the 
more  effectually,  secured."* 

But,  in  the  system  of  religious  monarchy,  there  is  almost  "\ 
always  another  element  introduced  besides  monarchy  itself  J 
A  new  power  takes  its  place  by  its  side  ;  a  power  nearer  to 
God,  the  source  whence  monarchy  emanates,  than  monarchy 
itself.     This  is  the  clergy,  the  ecclesiastical  power  which  \ 
interposes  between  God  and  Kings,  and  between  kings   and 
people,  in  such  sort,  that  monarchy,  though  the  image  of  the 
Divinity,  runs  the  hazard  of  falling  to  the  rank  of  an  instru 

•  Forum  judicum,  tit.  112;  tit.  i.  1.  2,  1.  4. 


/ 


204  GENERAL    HISTORY    Ot 

ment  in  the  hands  of  the  human  interpreters  of  the  Divine 
will.  This  is  a  new  cause  of  diversity  in  the  destinie3  and 
effects  of  the  institution. 

The  different  kinds  of  monarchy,  then,  which,  in  the  fiftn 
century,  made  their  appearance  on  the  ruins  of  the  Raman 
empire,  were,  the  barbarian  monarchy,  the  imperial  monarchy, 
and  religious  monarchy  in  its  infancy.  Their  fortunes  were 
as  different  as  their  principles. 

In  France,  under  the  first  race,  barbarian  monarchy  pre 
vailed.  There  were,  indeed,  some  attempts  on  the  part  of 
the  clergy  to  impress  upon  it  the  imperial  or  religious  char 
acter ;  but  the  system  of  election,  in  the  royal  family,  with 
some  mixture  of  inheritance  and  of  religious  notions,  remained 
predominant. 

J   In  Italy,  among  the   Ostrogoths,  the  inmerial  monarchy 

overcame   the    barbarous    customs.      Theo3onc   considered 

/  himself  as  successor  of  the  emperors.     It  is  sufficient  to  read 

*  Cassiodorus  to  perceive  that  this  was  the  character  of  his 

government. 

In  Spain,  monarchy  appeared  more  religious  than  else- 
where/ As  the  councils  of  Toledo,  though  I  shall  not  call 
them  absolute,  were  the  influencing  power,  the  religious 
character  predominated,  if  not  in  the  government,  properly  so 
called,  of  the  Visigothic  kings,  at  least  in  the  laws  which 
the  clergy  suggested  to  them,  and  the  language  they  made 
them  speak. 

Tn  England,  among  the  Saxons,  manners  remained  almost 
wholly  barbarous.  The  kingdoms  of  the  heptarchy  were 
little  else  than  the  territories  of  different  bands,  every  one 
having  its  chief.  Military  election  appears  more  evidently 
among  them  than  anywhere  else.  The  Anglo-Saxon  mon- 
archy is  the  most  faithful  type  of  the  barbarian  monarchy. 
/"Thus,  from  the  fifth  to  the  seventh  century,  at  the  same 
»ime  that  all  these  three  sorts  of  monarchy  manifested  them- 
selves in  general  facts,  one  or  other  of  them  prevailed,  accord- 
ing to  circumstances,  in  the  different  states  of  Europe. 


Such   was  the  prevailing  confusion  at  this  period,  thai 

CiOthing  of  a  general  or  permanent  nature  could  be  established ; 

find,  from  vicissitude  to  vicissitude,  we  arrive  at  the  eighth 

century  without  finding  that  monarchy  has  anywhere  assumed 

\  i  definitive  character. 


.-i\  u.i/.ATioN  EM  modern-    EUROPE.  205 

Towards  the  middle  of  the  eighth  century,  and  with  the 
triumph  of  the  second  race  of  the  Frank  kings,  events  assume 
a  more  general  character,  and  become  clearer ;  as  they  were 
transacted  on  a  larger  scale,  they  can  be  better  understood 
and  have  more  evident  results.  The  different  kinds  of  mon- 
archy were  shortly  destined  to  succeed  and  combine  with  one 
another  in  a  very  striking  manner. 

At  the  time  when  the  Carlovingians  replaced  the  MerovinV 
gians,  we   perceive  a  return   of  the   barbarian   monarchy.) 
Election  re-appeared  ;  Pepin  got  himself  elected  at  Soissons. 
When  the  first  Carlovingians  gave  kingdoms  to  their  sons, 
they  took  care  that  they  should  be  acknowledged  by  the  chief 
men  of  the  states  assigned  to  them.     When  they  divided  h 
kingdom,  they  desired  that  the  partition  should  be  sanctioned 
in  the  national  assemblies.     In  short,  the  elective  principle, 
under  the  form  of  popular  acceptance,  again  assumed  a  cer- 
tain reality.     You  remember  that  this  change  of  dynasty  was~\ 
like  a  new  inroad  of  the  Germans  into  the  west  of  Europe.    ] 
und  brought  back  some  shadow  of  their  ancient  institutions^/ 
and  manners. 

At  the  same   time,  we  see  the  religious  principle  more\ 
clearly  introducing  itself  into  monarchy,  and  performing  a  part 
of  greater  importance.     Pepin  was  acknowledged  and  conse-/ 
crated  by  the  pope.     He  felt  that  he  stood  in  need  of  the 
sanction  of  religion ;  it  was  already  become  a  great  power, 
and  he  sought  its  assistance.     Charlemagne  adopted  the  same  I 
policy ;  and  religious  monarchy  thus  developed  itself.     Still,- 
however,  under  Charlemagne,  religion  was  not  the  prevailing 
character  of  his  government ;  the  imperial  system  of  monarchy 
was  that  which  he  wished  to  revive.     Although  he  allied  him- 
self closely  with  the  clergy,  he  made  use  of  them,  and  was 
not  their  instrument.     The  idea  of  a  great  state,  of  a  great 
political  combination, — the  resurrection,  in  short,  of  the  Ro- 
man empire,  was  the  favorite  day-dream  of  Charlemagne. 

He  died,  and  was  succeeded  by  Louis  le  Debonnaire>. 
Kvcrvbody  knows  the  character  to  which  the  royal  power 
was  then,  for  a  short  time,  reduced.  The  king  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  clergy,  who  censured,  deposed,  re-instated,  and 
governed  him  ;  a  monarchy  subordinate  to  religious  authority- 
deemed  on  the  point  of  being  established. 

Thus,  from  the  middle  of  the  eighth  to  the  middle  of  the  ' 
ninth  century,  the  diversity  of  the  three  kinds  of  monarchy 


206  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

became  manifested  by  events  important,  closely  contacted 
and  clear. 

After  the  death  of  Louis  ie  Debonnaire,  during  the  state  of 
disorder  into  which  Europe  fell,  the  three  kinds  of  monarchy 
almost  equally  disappeared  :  everything  became  confounded. 
^A.t  the  end  of  a  certain  time,  when  the  feudal  system  had  pro 
/  vailed,  a  fourth  kind  of  monarchy  presented  itself,  differing 
j  from  all  those  which  had  been  hitherto  observed  :  this  way 
v  feudal  monarchy.  It  is  confused  in  its  nature,  and  canno- 
easily  be  defined.  It  has  been  said  that  the  king,  in  the  feu- 
dal system  of  government,  was  the  suzerain  over  suzerains* 
the  lord  over  lords  ;  that  he  was  connected  by  firm  links,  from 
degree  to  degree,  with  the  whole  frame  of  society  ;  and  that, 
in  calling  around  him  his  own  vassals,  then  the  vassals  of  his 
vassals,  and  so  on  in  gradation,  he  exercised  his  authority 
over  the  whole  mass  of  the  people,  and  showed  himself  to  be 
really  a  king.  I  do  not  deny  that  this  is  the  theory  of  feudal 
monarchy :  but  it  is  a  mere  theory,  which  has  never  governed 
facts.  This  pretended  influence  of  the  king  by  means  of  a 
hierarchical  organization,  these  links  which  are  supposed  to 
have  united  monarchy  to  the  whole  body  of  feudal  society, 
are  the  dreams  of  speculative  politicians.  In  fact,  the  greatest 
part  of  the  feudal  chieftains  at  that  period  were  completely  in- 
dependent of  the  monarchy  ;  many  of  them  hardly  knew  it  even 
by  name,  and  had  few  or  no  relations  with  it :  every  kind  of 

(sovereignty  was  local  and  independent.  The  name  of  king, 
borne  by  one  of  these  feudal  chiefs,  does  not  so  much  express 
a  fact  as  a  remembrance. 

/    Such  is  the  state  in  which  monarchy  presents  itself  in  the 
(course  of  the  tenth  and  eleventh  centuries. 

In  the  twelfth,  at  the  accession  of  Louis  le  Gros,  things 
began  to  change  their  aspect.21  The  king  was  more  fre 
quently  spoken  of;  his  influence  penetrated  into  places  which 
it  had  not  previously  reached  ;  he  assumed  a  more  active  part 
in  society.  If  we  inquire  into  this  title,  we  recognise  none 
of  those  titles  of  which  monarchy  had  previously  been  accus- 
romed  to  avail  itself.  It  was  not  by  inheritance  from  the 
emperors,  or  by  the  title  of  imperial  monarchy,  that  this  insti* 
Ution  aggrandized   itself,  and   assumed   more    consistency 

21  Louis  the  Fat  came  to  the  throne  1108. 


civilization    IN    Mf)Di  207 

Neither  was  it  in  virtue  of  election,  or  as  being  an  emanation 
from  divine  power :  every  appearance  of  election  had  vanished  , 
the  principle  of  inheritance.definitively  prevailed  ;  and  notwith- 
standing the  sanction  given  by  religion  to  the  accession  of 
kinfTs,  the  minds  of  men  did  not  appear  to  be  at  all  occupied 
with  the  religious  character  of  the  monarchy  of  Louis  le 
Gros.  A  new  element,  a  character  hitherto  unknown,  was 
introduced  into  monarchy  ;  a  new  species  of  monarchy  began/ 
u>  exist.  S 

Society,  I  need  hardly  repeat,  was  at  this  period  in  very 
^reat  disorder,  and  subject  to  constant  scenes  of  violence. 
Society,  in  itself,  was  destitute  of  means  to  struggle  against 
this  situation,  and  to  recover  some  degree  of  order  and  unity 
The  feudal  institutions, — those  parliaments  of  barons,  those 
seignorial  courts, — all  those  forms  under  which,  in  modern 
times,  feudalism  has  been  represented  as  a  systematic  and 
orderly  state  of  government, — all  these  things  were  unreal 
and  powerless  ;  there  was  nothing  in  them  which  could  afford 
the  means  of  establishing  any  degree  of  order  or  justice  ;  so 
that,  in  the  midst  of  social  anarchy,  no  one  knew  to  whom 
recourse  could  be  had,  in  order  to  redress  a  great  injustice, 
remedy  a  great  evil,  to  constitute  something  like  a  state.  The 
name  of  king  remained,  and  was  borne  by  some  chief  whose 
authority  was  acknowledged  by  a  few  others.  The  differ- 
ent titles,  however,  under  which  the  royal  power  had  been 
formerly  exercised,  though  they  had  no  great  influence,  yet 
were  far  from  being  forgotten,  and  were  recalled  on  various 
occasions.  It  happened  that,  in  order  to  re-establish  some 
degree  of  order  in  a  place  near  the  king's  residence,  or  to 
terminate  some  difference  which  had  lasted  a  long  time,  re- 
course was  had  to  him  ;  he  was  called  upon  to  intervene  in 
affairs  which  were  not  directly  his  own  ;  and  he  intervened 
is  a  protector  of  public  order,  as  arbitrator,  as  redresser  of 
wrongs.  The  moral  authority  which  continued  to  be  attach- 
ed to  his  name  gained  for  him,  by  little  and  little,  this  great 
accession  of  power. 

Such  was  the  character  which  monarchy  began  to  assume 
under  Louis  le  Gro3,  and  under  the  administration  of  Suger. 
Now,  for  the  first  time,  seems  to  have  entered  the  minds  of 
men  the  idea,  though  very  incomplete,  confused,  and  feeble 
j{  a  public  power,  unconnected  with  the  ;ocal  powers  which 
had  possession  of  society,  called   upon  to  render  justice  Urt 


208  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

those  who  could  not  obtain  it  by  ordinary  means,  and  capable 
of  producing,  or  at  least  commanding,  order  ; — the  idea  of  a 
great  magistracy,  whose  essential,  character  was  to  maintaii* 
or  re-establish  the  peace  of  society,  to  protect  the  weak,  and 
to  decide  differences  which  could  not  be  otherwise  settled. 
Such  was  the  entirely  new  character,  in  which,  reckoning 
from  the  twelfth  century,  monarchy  appeared  in  Europe,  and 
especially  in  France.  It  was  neither  as  barbarian  monarchy, 
as  religious  monarchy,  nor  as  imperial  monarchy,  that  the 
royal  power  was  exercised ;  this  kind  of  monarchy  possessed 
only  a  limited,  incomplete,  and  fortuitous  power ; — a  power 
which  I  cannot  more  precisely  describe  than  by  saying  that 
it  was,  in  some  sort,  that  of  the  chief  conservator  of  the  pub- 
lic peace. 

This  is  the  true  origin  of  modern  monarchy  ;  this  is  its  vital 
principle,  if  I  may  so  speak ;  it  is  this  which  has  been  de- 
veloped in  the  course  of  its  career,  and,  I  have  no  hesitation 
in  saying,  has  ensured  its  success.  At  different  periods  of 
history  we  observe  the  re-appearance  of  the  various  charac- 
ters of  monarchy ;  we  see  the  different  kinds  of  monarchy 
which  I  have  described,  endeavoring,  by  turns,  to  recover  the 
preponderance.  Thus,  the  clergy  have  always  preached  re- 
ligious monarchy ;  the  civilians  have  labored  to  revive  the 
principle  of  imperial  monarchy ;  the  nobility  would  sometimes 
have  wished  to  renew  elective  monarchy,  or  maintain  feu- 
dal monarchy.  And  not  only  have  the  clergy,  the  civilians, 
and  the  nobility,  attempted  to  give  such  or  such  a  character  a 
predominance  in  the  monarchy,  but  monarchy  itself  has  made 
them  all  contribute  towards  the  aggrandizement  of  its  own 
power.  Kings  have  represented  themselves  sometimes  as  the 
delegates  of  God,  sometimes  as  the  heirs  of  the  emperors,  or 
as  the  first  noblemen  of  the  land,  according  to  the  occasion  01 
public  wish  of  the  moment ;  they  have  illegitimately  availed 
themselves  of  these  various  titles,  but  none  of  them  has  been 
|  the  real  title  of  modern  monarchy,  or  the  source  of  its  pre- 
ponderating influence.  It  is,  I  repeat,  as  depositary  and  pro- 
tector of  public  order,  of  general  justice,  and  of  the  common 
interest, — it  is  under  the  aspect  of  a  chief  magistracy,  the 
centre  and  bond  of  society,  that  modern  monarchy  has  pre- 
sented itself  to  the  people,  and,  in  obtaining  their  adhesion 
has  made  their  strength  its  own. 

You  will  see,  as  we  proceed,  this  characteristic  of  the 


/ 


»  lYII.I/.A  HON     IN     MOPIKN     BUROPK.  200 

monarchy  of  modern  Europe,  which  began,  I  repeat,  in  the 
Jweifth  century,  and  in  the  reign  of  Louis  le  Gros,  confirm 
ntul  develop  itself,  and  become  at  length,  if  I  may  so  speak, 
the  political  physiognomy  of  the  institution.  It  is  by  this  tha* 
monarchy  has  contributed  to  the  great  result  which  now  cha- 
racterizes European  society,  the  reduction  of  all  the  social 
eioments  to  two — the  government  and  the  nation. 

Thus  it  appears,  that,  at  the  breaking  out  of  the  crusades, 
Europe  entered  upon  the  path  which  was  to  conduct  her  to 
her  present  state  :  you  have  just  seen  monarchy  assume  the 
important  part  which  it  was  destined  to  perform  in  this  great 
transformation.  We  shall  consider,  at  our  next  meeting,  the 
different  attempts  at  political  organization,  made  from  the 
twelfth  to  the  sixteenth  century,  in  order  to  maintain,  by  regu- 
lating it,  the  order  of  things  that  was  about  to  perish.  We 
shall  consider  the  efforts  of  feudalism,  of  the  Church,  and 
even  of  the  free  cities,  to  constitute  society  according  to  its 
ancient  principles,  and  under  its  primitive  forms,  and  thus  to 
defend  themselves  against  the  general  change  which  won  pTe* 
[>&rin«i 


LECTURE    X 

VARIOUS     ATTEMPTS     TO     FORM     THE     SEVERAL     SOCIAL     ELE- 
MENTS   INTO    ONE    SOCIETY. 

At  the  commencement  of  this  lecture  I  wish,  at  once,  to 
determine  its  object  with  precision.  It  will  be  recollected, 
that  one  of  the  first  facts  that  struck  us,  was  the  diversity,  the 
separation,  the  independence,  of  the  elements  of  ancient  Eu- 
ropean society.  The  feudal  nobility,  the  clergy,  and  the  com 
mons,  had  each  a  position,  laws,  and  manners,  entirely  differ- 
ent ;  they  formed  so  many  distinct  societies  whose  mode  of 
government  was  independent  of  each  other.  They  were  in 
some  measure  connected,  and  in  contact,  but  no  real  union 
existed  between  them  ;  to  speak  correctly,  they  did  not  form 
a  nation — a  state. 
/  The  fusion  of  these  distinct  portions  of  society  into  one  is, 
I  at  length,  accomplished  ;  this  is  precisely  the  distinctive  or- 
V.  ganizaiion,  the  essential  characteristic  of  modern  society. 
The  ancient  social  elements  are  now  reduced  to  two — the 
government  and  the  people ;  that  is  to  say,  diversity  ceased 
and  similitude  introduced  union.  Before,  however,  this  re- 
sult took  place,  and  even  with  a  view  to  its  prevention,  many 
attempts  were  made  to  bring  all  these  separate  portions  of  so- 
ciety together,  without  destroying  their  diversity  and  indepen- 
dence. No  positive  attack  was  made  on  the  peculiar  position 
and  privileges  of  each  portion,  on  their  distinctive  nature,  and 
yet  there  was  an  attempt  made  to  form  them  into  one  statn, 
one  national  body,  to  bring  them  all  under  one  and  the  same 
government. 

All  these  attempts  failed.  The  result  which  I  have  noticed 
above,  the  union  of  modern  society,  attests  their  want  of  sue 
cess  Even  in  ihose  parts  of  Europe  where  some  traces  of 
the  ancient  diversity  of  the  social  elements  are  still  to  be  met 
with,  in  Germany,  for  instance,  where  a  real  feudal  nobility 
and  a  distinct  body  of  burghers  still  exist ;  in  England,  where 
wo  3ee  an  established  Church  enjoying  its  own  revenues  and 


I  IVIUZATION    IN*    MODERN     EUROi'K.  'ill 

ts  own  peculiar  jurisdiction  ;  it  is  clear  that  this  pretended 
'iistinct  existence  is  a  shadow,  a  falsehood  :  that  these  special 
.societies  are  confounded  in  general  society,  absorbed  in  the 
state,  governed  by  the  public  authorities,  controlled  by  the 
^ame  system  of  polity,  carried  away  by  the  same  current  of 
.(has,  the  same  maimers.  Again  I  assert,  that  even  where 
.he  form  still  exists,  the  separation  and  independence  of  the 
iinciont  social  erements  have  no  longer  any  reality. 

At  the  same  time,  these  attempts  at  rendering  the  ancient 
kind  social  elements  co-ordinate,  without  changing  their  na- 
ture, at  forming  them  into  national  unity  without  annihilating 
their  variety,  are  entitled  to  an  important  place  in  the  history 
of  Europe.  The  period  which  now  engages  our  attention — 
that  period  which  separates  ancient  from  modern  Europe,  ind 
in  which  was  accomplished  the  metamorphosis  of  European 
society — is  almost  entirely  filled  with  them.  Not  only  do 
they  form  a  principal  part  of  the  history  of  this  period,  but 
they  had  a  considerable  influence  on  after  events,  on  the  man- 
ner in  which  was  effected  the  reduction  of  the  various  social 
elements  to  two — the  government  and  the  people.  It  is  clear^ 
ly,  then,  of  great  importance,  that  we  should  become  well  ac- 
quainted with  all  those  endeavors  at  political  organization 
which  were  made  from  the  twelfth  to  the  sixteenth  century, 
for  the  purpose  of  creating  nations  and  governments,  without 
destroying  the  diversity  of  secondary  societies  placed  by  the 
side  of  each  other.  These  attempts  form  the  subject  of  ths  J 
present  lecture — a  laborious  and  even  painful  task. 

All  these  attempts  at  political  organization  did  not,  certain- 
ly, originate  from  a  good  motive ;  too  many  of  them  arose 
from  selfishness  and  tyranny.  Yet  some  of  them  were  pure 
and  disinterested ;  some  of  them  had,  truly,  for  their  object 
the  moral  and  social  welfare  of  mankind.  Society,  at  this 
time,  was  in  such  a  state  of  incoherence,  of  violence  and  in- 
quity,  as  could  not  but  be  extremely  offensive  to  men  of  en- 
larged views — to  men  who  possessed  elevated  sentiments, 
and  who  labored  incessantly  to  discover  the  means  of  improv- 
ing it.  Yet  even  the  best  of  these  noble  attempts  miscarried  ; 
and  is  not  the  loss  of  so  much  courage — of  so  many  sacrifi- 
ces and  endeavors — of  so  much  virtue,  a  melancholy  spec- 
tacle \  And  what  is  still  more  painful,  a  still  more  poignant 
sorrow,  not  only  did  these  attempts  at  social  melioration  fail, 
r>u'  an  enormous  mass  of  error  an'1  of  evil  was  mingled  with 


212  GENERAL    HISTORV     OV 

them.  Notwithstanding  good  intention,  the  majoiiiy  of  their, 
were  absurd,  and  show  a  profound  ignorance  of  reason,  of 
justice,  of  the  rights  of  humanity,  and  of  the  conditions  of  the 
social  state ;  so  that  not  only  were  they  unsuccessful,  but  it 
was  right  that  they  should  be  so.  We  have  here  a  spectacle 
not  only  of  the  hard  lot  of  humanity,  but  also  of  its  weakness 
We  may  here  see  how  the  smallest  portion  of  truth  suffices 
so  to  engage  the  whole  attention  of  men  of  superior  intellect, 
that  they  forget  every  thing  else,  and  become  blind  to  all  that 
is  not  comprised  within  the  narrow  horizon  of  their  ideas. 
We  may  here  see  how  the  existence  of  ever  so  small  a  par- 
ticle of  justice  in  a  cause  is  sufficient  to  make  them  lose 
sight  of  all  the  injustice  which  it  contains  and  permits.  This 
display  of  the  vices  and  follies  of  man  is,  in  my  opinion  3!ill 
more  melancholy  to  contemplate  than  the  misery  of  this  con- 
dition ;  his  faults  affect  me  more  than  his  sufferings.  The  at- 
tempts already  alluded  to  will  bring  man  before  us  in  both  these 
situations  ;  still  we  must  not  shun  the  painful  retrospect ;  it 
behooves  us  not  to  flinch  from  doing  justice  to  those  men,  to 
those  ages  that  have  so  often  erred,  so  miserably  failed,  and 
yet  have  displayed  such  noble  virtues,  made  such  powerful 
efforts,  merited  so  much  glory. 


The  attempts  at  political  organization  which  were  formed 
from  the  twelfth  to  the  sixteenth  centuries  were  of  two  kinds ; 
one  having  for  its  object  the  predominance  of  one  of  the  so- 
cial elements  ;  sometimes  the  clergy,  sometimes  the  feudal 
nobility,  sometimes  the  free  cities,  and  making  all  the  others 
subordinate  to  it,  and  by  such  a  sacrifice  to  introduce  unity ; 
the  other  proposed  to  cause  all  the  different  societies  to  agree 
and  to  act  together,  leaving  to  each  portion  its  liberty,  and  en- 
suring to  each  its  due  share  of  influence. 

The  attempts  of  the  former  kind  are  much  more  open  tc 
fiuspicion  of  self-interest  and  tyranny  than  the  latter  ;  in  fact, 
they  were  not  spotless  ;  from  their  very  nature  they  were  es- 
sentially tyrannical  in  their  mode  of  execution  ;  yet  some  of 
them  might  have  been,  and  indeed  were,  conceived  in  a  wpirit 
of  pure  intention,  and  with  a  view  to  the  welfare  and  advance- 
ment of  mankind. 


I     The  first  atcempt  whicn  presents  itself,  is  the  attempt  a' 


.■IVIMZATION     IN    MODERN    BVROPI 

Jieocratieal  organization  ;  that  is  to  say,  the  design  01  bring\  . 
tag  all  the  other  societies  into  a  state  of  submission  to  the  J  ' 
principles  and  sway  of  ecclesiastical  society.  ^ 

1  must  here  refer  to  what  I  have  already  said  relative  to  the 
nistory  of  the  Church.     I  have  endeavored  to  show  what  were 
the  principles  it  developed — what  was  the  legitimate  part  of 
cm  h — how  these  principles  arose  from  the  natural  course  of 
•  vents — the  good  and  the  evil  produced  by  them.     I  have 
characterized  the  different  stages  through  which  the  Church 
passed  from  the  eighth  to  the  twelfth  century.     I  have  point- 
ed out  the  state  of  the  imperial   Church,  of  the  barbarian 
Church,  of  the  feudal  Church,  and   lastly,  of  the  theocratic 
Church.     I  take  it  for  granted  that  all  this  is  present  in  your\ 
recollection,  and  I  shall  now  endeavor  to  show  you  what  the  ) 
clergy  did  in  order  to  obtain  the  government  of  Europe,  any 
why  they  failed  in  obtaining  it. 

The  attempt  at  theocratic  organization  appeared  at  an 
early  period,  both  in  the  acts  of  the  court  of  Rome,  and  in 
those  of  the  clergy  in  general ;  it  naturally  proceeded  from  the 
political  and  moral  superiority  of  the  Church  ;  but,  from  the 
commencement,  such  obstacles  were  thrown  in  its  way,  thai, 
even  in  its  greatest  vigor,  it  never  had  the  power  to  overcome 
them. 

The  first  obstacle  was  the  nature  itself  of  Christianity 
Very  different,  in  this  respect,  from  the  greater  part  of  religi  ^^ 
ous  creeds,  Christianity  established  itself  by  persuasion  alone 
by  simple  moral  efforts ;  even  at  its  birth  it  was  not  armed 
with  power  ;  in  its  earliest  years  it  conquered  by  words  alone, 
and  its  only  conquest  was  the  souls  of  men.     Even  after  its 
triumph,  even  when  the  Church  was  in  possession  of  great  ' 
wealth  and  consideration,  the  direct  government  of  society  £*3 
was  not  placed  in  its  hands.     Its  origin,  purely  moral,  spring- 
ing from  mental  influence  alone,  was  implanted  in  its  consti- 
tution.     It  possessed  a  vast  influence,  but  it  had  no  power.    I*  \ 
gradually  insinuated  itself  into  the  municipal  magistracies  ;  it 
acted  powerfully  upon  the  emperors  and  upon  all  their  agents  ; 
but  the  positive  administration  of  public  affairs — the  govern- 
ment, properly  so  called — was  not  possessed  by  the  Church. 
Now,  a  system  of  government,  a  theocracy,  as  well  as  any^ 
:>ther,  cannot  be  established  in  an  indirect  manner,  by  mere 
influence  alone  ;  it  must  possess  the  judicial  and  ministerial 
offices,  the  command  of  the   forces,  he  in  receipt  o(  the  im- 


1^14  GENERAL    HISTORY    OK 

/posts,  have  the  disposal  of  the  revenue,  in  a  word,  it  must 
(  govern — take  possession  of  society.  Force  of  persuasion  may 
do  much,  it  may  obtain  great  influence  over  a  people,  and 
even  over  governments  its  sway  may  be  very  powerful ;  but 
it  cannot  govern,  it  cannot  found  a  system,  it  cannot  take 
possession  of  the  future.  Such  has  been,  even  from  its  origin, 
the  situation  of  the  Christian  Church  ;  it  has  always  sided 
/^with  government,  but  never  superseded  it,  and  taken  its  place  ; 

La  great  obstacle,  which  the   attempt  at  theocratic  organiza- 
tion was  never  able  to  surmount. 


L 


a  A  <  ruft 

I 


The  attempt  to  establish  a  theocracy  very  soon  met  with  u 
second  obstacle.  When  the  Roman  empire  was  destroyed, 
and  the  barbarian  states  were  established  on  its  ruins,  the 
Christian  Church  w^r%  found  among  the  conquered.  It  was 
necessary  for  it  to  escape  from  this  situation ;  to  begin  by 
'o'(y converting  the  conquerors,  and  thus  to  raise  itself  to  their 
rank.  This  accomplished,  when  the  Church  aspired  to  do- 
minion, it  had  to  encounter  the  pride  and  the  resistance  of  the 
feudal  nobility.  Europe  is  greatly  indebted  to  the  laic  mem- 
bers of  the  feudal  system  in  the  eleventh  century  :  the  people 
\  were  almost  completely  subjugated  by  the  Church ;  sover 
eigns  could  scarcely  protect  themselves  from  its  domination  : 
the  feudal  nobility  alone  would  never  submit  to  its  yoke,  would 
I  never  give  way  to  the  power  of  the  clergy.  We  have  only 
to  recall  to  our  recollection  the  general  appearance  of  the 
middle  ages,  in  order  to  be  struck  with  the  singular  mixture 
of  loftiness  and  submission,  of  blind  faith  and  liberty  of  mind 
in  tfee  connexion  of  the  lay  nobility  with  the  priests.  We 
there  find  some  of  the  remnants  of  their  primitive  situation. 
It  may  be  remembered  how  I  endeavored  to  describe  the  ori- 
gin of  the  feudal  system,  its  first  elements,  and  the  manner  in 
which  feudal  society  first  formed  itself  around  the  habitation 
of  the  possessor  of  the  fief.  I  remarked  how  much  the  oriest 
was  there  below  the  lord  of  the  fief.  Yes,  and  there  always 
/  remained,  in  the  hearts  of  the  feudal  nobility,  a  feeling  of  this 
situation  ;  they  always  considered  themselves  as  not  only  in- 
dependent of  the  Church,  but  as  its  superior, — as  alone  called 
upon  to  possess,  and  in  reality  to  govern,  the  country  ;  the} 
were  willing  always  to  live  on  good  terms  with  the  clergy, 
out  at  the  same  time  insisting  that  each  should  perform  his 
own  part,  the  one  not  infringing  upon  the  duties  of  the  other 
D?irin&  many  centuries  it  was  the  lay  aristocracy  who  main 


1UZATI0N    IN    MODERN    B'JAOPE.  215 

lau/od  the  independence  of  society  with  regard  to  the  Church;   ) 
they  boldly  defended  it  when  the  sovereigns  and  the  people 
wero  subdued.      They  were  the  first  to  oppose,  and  probably 
contributed  more  than  any  other  power  to  the  failure  of  tlx 
attempt  at  a  theocratic  organization  of  society. 

A  third  obstacle  stood  much  in  the  way  of  this  attempt,  an  J 
obstacle  which  has  been  but  little  noticed,  and  the  effect  of  / 
which  has  often  been  misunderstood.  v 

In  all  parts  of  the  world  where  a  clergy  made  itself  mastc/ 
of  society,  and  forced  it  to  submit  to  a  theocratic  organization,  \ 
the  government  always  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  married  clergy,  J 
of  a  body  of  priests  who  were  enabled  to  recruit  their  ranks/ 
from  their  own  society.     Examine  history  ;  look  to  Asia  anc 
Egypt ;  every  powerful  theocracy  you  will  find  to  have  been 
the  work  of  a  priesthood,  of  a  society  complete  within  itself, 
and  which  had  no  occasion  to  borrow  of  any  other. 

But  the  celibacy  of  the  clergy  placed  the  Christian  priest- 
hood in  a  very  different  situation  ;  it  was  obliged  to  have  re- 
course incessantly  to  lay  society  in  order  to  continue  its  ex- 
istence ;  it  was  compelled  to  seek  at  a  distance,  among  all 
stations,  all  social  profesnions,  for  the  means  of  its  duration. 
In  vain,  attachment  to  their  order  induced  them  to  labor  as- 
siduously for  the  purpose  of  assimilating  these  discordant 
elements  ;  some  of  the  original  qualities  of  these  new-comers 
ever  remain ;  citizens  or  gentlemen,  they  always  retained 
some  vestige  of  their  former  disposition,  of  their  early  habits. 
Doubtless  the  Catholic  clergy,  by  being  placed  in  a  lonely 
situation  by  celibacy,  by  being  cut  off,  as  it  were,  from  the 
common  life  of  men,  became  more  isolated,  and  separate  from 
society ;  but  then  it  was  forced  continually  to  have  recourse 
to  this  same  lay  society,  to  recruit,  to  renew  itself  from  it, 
and  consequently  to  participate  in  the  moral  revolutions  which 
it  underwent ;  and  I  have  no  hesitation  in  stating  it  as  my 
opinion,  that  this  necessity,  which  was  always  arising,  did 
much  more  to  prevent  the  success  of  the  attempt  at  theocratic 
organization,  than  the  esprit  dc  corps,  strongly  supported  as  it) 
was  by  celibacy,  did  to  forward  it.  / 

The  clergy,  indeed,  found  within  its  own  body  the  most 
powerful  opponents  of  this  attempt.  Much  has  been  said  of 
the  unity  of  the  Church,  and  it  is  true  that  it  has  constantly 
endeavored  to  obtain  this  unity,  and  in  some  particulars  has 
nnd  the  good  fortune  to  succeed.     B  ;t  we  must  not  suffer 


210  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

ourselves  to  be  imposed  upon  by  high-sounding  words,  nor  b} 
partial  facts.     What  society  has  offered  to  our  view  a  greater 

"  number  of  civil  dissensions,  has  been  subject  to  more  dismem- 
berments than  the  clergy  1  What  society  has  suffered  more 
from  divisions,  from  agitations,  from  disputes  than  the  ecclesi 
astical  nation  ?  The  national  churches  of  the  majority  of  Eu- 
ropean states  have  been  incessantly  at  variance  with  the  Ro- 
man court ;  the  councils  have  been  at  war  with  the  popes : 
heresies  have  been  innumerable  and  ever  springing  up  anew  ; 
schism  always  breaking  out ;  nowhere  was  ever  witnessed 
wuch  a  diversity  of  opinions,  so  much  rancor  in  dispute,  such 
^iiinute  parcelling  out  of  power.  The  internal  state  of  the 
/  Church,  the  disputations  which  have  taken  place,  the  revolu- 

/  tions  by  which  it  has  been  agitated,  have  been  perhaps  the 
greatest  of  all  obstacles  to  the  triumph  of  that  theocratical 

\    organization  which  the  Church  endeavored  to  impose  upon 

\society.  . 

CA11  these  obstacles  were  visibly  in  action  even  so  early  as 
the  fifth  century,  even  at  the  commencement  of  the  great  at- 
tempt of  which  we  are  now  speaking.  They  did  not,  how- 
ever, prevent  the  continuance  of  its  exertions,  nor  retard  its 
progress  during  several  centuries.  The  period  of  its  greatest 
glory,  its  crisis,  as  it  may  be  termed,  was  the  reign  of  Gre- 
gory the  Seventh,  at  the  end  of  the  eleventh  century.  We 
have  already  seen  that  the  predominant  wish  of  Gregory  was 
to  render  the  world  subservient  to  the  clergy,  the  clergy  to 
the  pope,  and  to  form  Europe  into  one  immense  and  regular 
theocracy.  In  the  scheme  by  which  this  was  to  be  effected, 
this  great  man  appears,  so  far  as  one  can  judge  of  events 
which  took  place  so  long  ago,  to  have  committed  two  great 
faults — one  as  a  theorist,  the  other  as  a  revolutionist.  The 
first  consisted  in  the  pompous  proclamation  of  his  plan  ;  in 
his  giving  a  systematical  detail  of  his  principles  relative  to 
:he  nature  and  the  rights  of  spiritual  power,  of  drawing  from 
them  beforehand,  like  a  severe  logician,  their  remotest,  their 
ultimate  consequences.  He  thus  threatened  and  even  attacked 
all  the  lay  sovereignties  of  Europe,  without  having  secured  the 
means  of  success  :  not  considering  that  success  in  human 
affairs  is  not  to  be  obtained  by  such  absolute  proceedings,  or 
by  a  mere  appeal  to  a  philosophic  argument.  Gregory  the 
Seventh  also  fell  into  the  common  error  of  all  revolutionists — 
that  of  attempting  more  than  they  can  perform,  and  of  not 


UlVlLIS&TIOti    in    MODI  'J  17 

tiling  the  measure  and  limits  of  their  enterprises  .vithia  the 
bounds  of  possibility.  In  order  to  hasten  the  predominance 
of  his  opinions,  he  entered  into  a  contest  against  the  Empire, 
Against  all  sovereigns,  even  igojnst  the  great  oody  of  the 
clergy  itself.  He  never  temporized — he  consulted  no  parli- 
enhir  interests,  but  openly  proclaimed  his  determination  to 
reign  over  all  kingdoms  as  well  as  over  all  intellects  ;  and 
thus  raised  up  against  him,  not  only  all  temporal  powers, 
•who  discovered  the  pressing  danger  of  their  situation,  but 
Bbo  all  those  who  advocated  the  right  of  free  inquiry,  a  party 
which  now  began  to  show  itself,  and  dreaded  and  exclaimed 
against  all  tyranny  over  the  human  mind.  It  seemed  indeed\ 
probable,  on  the  whole,  that  Gregory  the  Seventh  injured  \ 
rather  than  advanced  the  cause  which  he  wished  to  serve.       J 

This  cause,  however,  still  continued  to  prosper  throughout^ 
the  whole  of  the  twelfth  and  down  to  the  middle  of  the  thir-^ 
teenth  century.     This  was  the  epoch  of  the  greatest  power  / 
and  splendor  of  the  Church.     I  do  not  think  it  can  be  said 
that  during  this  period  she  made  much  progress  ;  to  the  end  of 
he  reign  of  Innocent  III.  she  rather  displayed  her  glory  and 
lower  than  increased  them.     But  at  this  very  moment  of  her 
ipparently  greatest  success,  a  popular  reaction  seemed  to  de- 
clare war  against  her  in  almost  every  part  of  Europe.     In 
the  south  of  France  broke  out  the  heresy  of  the  Albigenses, 
which  carried  away  a  numerous  and  powerful  society.     Al- 
most at  the  same  time  similar  notions  and  desires  appeared 
in  the  north,  in  Flanders.  Wickliffe,  only  a  little  later,  attack- 
ed in  England,  with  great  talent,  the  power  of  the  Church, 
nd  founded  a  sect  which  was  not  destined  to  perish.     Sove- 
reigns soon  began  to  follow  the  bent  of  their  nations.    It  was 
only  at  the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  century,  that  the  em- 
perors of  the  house  of  Hohenstaufen,  who  deservedly  rank\ 
among  the  most  able  and  powerful  sovereigns  of  Europe,  were  1 
overcome  in  their  struggle  with  the  Holy  See ;  yet  before  the 
eitd  of  the  same  century,  Saint  Louis,  the  most  pious  of  mon- 
archs,  proclaimed  the  independence  of  temporal  power,  an  1 
published  the  first  pragmatic  sanction,  which  has  served  as 
the  basis  of  all  the  following.22     At  the  opening  of  the  four- 

*;  This  ordinance  or  edict  was  proclaimed  by  St.  Louis  in  1269. 
The  term  Pragmatic  Sanction  is  commonly  applied  to  four  ordi- 
nances published  at  a  subsequent  date  :  1.  That  of  Charles  Vlf.  of 

10 


218  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

teenth  century  began  the  quarrel  between  Philip  die  Bel  w  ith 
Boniface  VIII. :  Edward  I.  of  England  was  not  more  obe- 
dient to  the  court  of  Rome.     At  this  epoch  it  is  evident,  that 
the  attempt  at  theocratic  organization  had  failed  ;  the  Church 
henceforward  acted  only  upon  the  defensive ;  she  no  longer 
attempted  to  force  her  system  upon  Europe ;  but  only  con- 
sidered how  she  might  keep  what  she  possessed.     It  is  at  the 
/"end  of  the  thirteenth  century  that  truly  dates  the  emancipa- 
/  tion  of  the  laic  society  of  Europe  ;  it  was  then  that  the  Chnrch 
vv  gave  up  her  pretensions  to  its  possession. 

For  a  long  time  before  this  she  had  renewed  this  preten 
sion  in  the  very  sphere  in  which  it  appealed  most  likely  for 
her  to  be  successful.  For  a  long  time  in  Italy  itself,  even 
around  the  very  throne  of  the  Church,  theocracy  had  com- 
\  pletely  failed,  and  given  way  to  a  system  its  very  opposite  in 
character  :  to  that  attempt  at  democratic  organization,  of  which 
the  Italian  republics  are  the  type,  and  which  displayed  so 
brilliant  a  career  in  Europe  from  the  eleventh  to  the  sixteentli 
century. 


It  will  be  remembered,  that,  when  speaking  of  the  free 
cities,  of  their  history,  and  of  the  manner  of  their  formation, 
I  observed  that  their  growth  had  been  more  precocious  and 
vigorous  in  Italy  than  in  any  other  country ;  they  were  here 
more  numerous,  as  well  as  more  wealthy,  than  in  Gaul,  Eng- 
land, or  Spain ;  the  Roman  municipal  system  had  been  pre- 
served with  more  life  and  regularity.  Besides  this,  the  pro- 
vinces of  Italy  were  less  fitted  to  become  the  habitation  of  its 
new  masters  than  the  rest  of  Europe,     The  lands  had  been 

France  in  1438,  by  which  the  Papal  power  was  limited,  and  the  in- 
dependence of  the  French  church  in  various  particulars  declared — 
conformably  to  the  canons  of  the  Council  of  Basle.  This  council 
commenced  in  1431  and  closed  1449.  It  passed  a  great  many  ca- 
nons declaring  the  Pope  subject  to  the  decrees  of  general  councils, 
limiting  his  powers,  and  decreeing  the  reformation  of  various  abuses 
and  corruptions  of  discipline  and  practice.  The  history  of  this 
council,  as  well  as  that  of  the  former  council  held  at  Constance  in 
1414-18,  is  deeply  interesting.  2.  The  decree  passed  by  Charles 
VI.  emperor  of  Germany  in  1449,  confirming  the  canons  of  the 
ccuncil  of  Basle,  is  also  called  a  Pragmatic  Sanction.  3.  The  de 
ciee of  Charles  VI.  respecting  the  succession  to  the  imperial  throne. 
4.  The  law  of  succession  proclaimed  by  C<  ^rad  III.  of  Spain  in  1759 


civil. izatk  N    in    KODEftM    IUKOP1  21U 

cleared,  drained,  and  cultivated ;  it  was  not  covered  with 
forests,  and  the  barbarians  could  not  here  devote  their  lives  to 
the  chase,  or  find  occupations  similar  to  what  had  amused  them 
in  Germany.  A  partof  this  country,  moreover,  did  not  belong 
to  then.  The  south  of  Italy,  the  Campania,  Romana,  Ra- 
venna, were  still  dependant  on  the  Greek  emperors.  Fa- 
vored by  distance  from  the  seat  of  government,  and  by  the 
vicissitudes  of  war,  the  republican  system  soon  took  root,  and 
grew  very  fast  in  this  portion  of  the  country.  Italy,  too,  be- 
sides having  never  been  entirely  subdued  by  the  barbarians, 
was  favored  by  the  circumstance,  that  the  conquerors  who 
overran  it  did  not  remain  its  tranquil  and  lasting  possessors. 
The  Ostrogoths  were  -destroyed  and  driven  off  by  Belisarius 
and  Narses  :  the  kingdom  of  the  Lombards  was  not  perma- 
nent. The  Franks  overthrew  it  under  Pepin  and  Charlemagne, 
who,  without  exterminating  the  Lombard  population,  found  it 
their  interest  to  ally  themselves  with  the  ancient  Italian  in- 
habitants, in  order  to  contend  against  the  Lombards  with 
more  success.  The  barbarians,  then,  never  became  in  Italy, 
as  in  the  other  parts  of  Europe,  the  exclusive  and  quiet  mas- 
ters of  the  territory  and  people.  And  thus  it  happened  tha 
the  feudal  system  never  made  much  progress  beyond  the  Alps 
wheie  it  was  but  weakly  established,  and  its  members  few 
and  scattered.  Neither  did  the  great  territorial  proprietors 
ever  gain  that  preponderance  here,  which  they  did  in  Gaul 
and  other  countries,  but  it  continued  to  rest  with  the  towns. 
When  this  result  clearly  showed  itself,  a  great  number  of  the 
possessors  of  fiefs,  moved  by  choice  or  necessity,  left  their 
country  dwellings  and  took  up  their  abode  within  the  walls  ol 
some  city.  The  barbarian  nobles  made  themselves  burgess- 
ss.  It  is  easy  to  imagine  what  strength  and  superiority  the 
-owns  of  Italy  acquired,  compared  with  the  other  communities 
of  Europe,  by  this  single  circumstance.  What  we  have  chiefly 
dwelt  upon,  as  most  observable  in  the  character  of  town  popu- 
lations, is  their  timidity  and  weakness.  The  burgesses  ap- 
pear like  so  many  courageous  freedmen,  struggling  with  toil 
and  care  against  a  master,  always  at  their  gates.  The  fate  of 
the  Italian  towns  was  widely  different ;  the  conquering  and 
conquered  populations  here  mixed  together  within  the  same 
walls  ;  the  towns  had  not  the  trouble  to  defend  themselves 
against  a  neighboring  master  ;  their  inhabitants  were  citizens, 
who,  at  least  for  the  most  part,  had  always  been  free  ;  who 
defended  their  independence  and  their  rights  against  distant 


220  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

"oreign  sovereigns  ;  at  one  time   against  the  kings  of  the 
Franks,  and,  at  a  later  period,  against  the  emperors  of  Ger- 
many.    This  will  in  some  measure  account  for  the  immense 
/  and  precocious  superiority  of  the  Italian  cities :  while  in  other 
"Oimtries  we  see  poor  insignificant  communities  arise  after 
great  trouble  and  exertion ;    we  here  see  shoot  up,  almost 
at  once,  republics — states. 
V       Thus  becomes  explained,  why  the  attempt  at  republican  or- 
ganization was  so  successful  in  this  part  of  Europe.     It  re- 
pressed, almost  in  its  childhood,  the  feudal  system,  and  be- 
came the  prevailing  form  in  society.     Still  it  was  but  little 
adapted  to  spread  or  endure  ;  it  contained  but  few  germs  of 
melioration,  a  necessary  condition  for  the  extension  and  dura- 
tion of  any  form  of  government. 

In  looking  at  the  history  of  the  Italian  republics,  from  the 
eleventh  to  the  fifteenth  century,  we  are  struck  with  two  facts, 
seemingly  contradictory,  yet  still  indisputable.  We  see  pass  • 
ing  before  us  a  wonderful  display  of  courage,  of  activity,  and 
of  genius  ;  an  amazing  prosperity  is  the  result :  we  see  a 
movement  and  a  liberty  unknown  to  the  rest  of  Europe.  But 
if  we  ask  what  was  the  real  state  of  the  inhabitants,  how 
they  passed  their  lives,  what  was  their  real  share  of  happi- 
ness, the  scene  changes  ;  there  is,  perhaps,  no  history  so  sad, 
so  gloomy :  no  period,  perhaps,  during  which  the  lot  of  man 
appears  to  have  been  so  agitated,  subject  to  so  many  deplor- 
able chances,  and  which  so  abounds  in  dissensions,  crimes, 
fand  misfortunes.  Another  fact  strikes  us  at  the  same  moment  • 
in  the  political  life  of  the  greater  part  of  these  republics, 
liberty  was  always  growing  less  and  less.  The  want  of  se- 
(  curity  was  so  great,  that  the  people  were  unavoidably  driven 
to  take  shelter  in  a  system  less  stormy,  less  popular,  than  that 
in  which  the  state  existed.  Look  at  the  history  of  Florence, 
Venice,  Genoa,  Milan,  or  Pisa ;  in  all  of  them  we  find  the 
course  of  events,  instead  of  aiding  the  progress  of  liberty,  in- 
stead of  enlarging  the  circle  of  institutions,  tending  to  repress 
it ;  tending  to  concentrate  power  in  the  hands  of  a  smaller 
number  of  individuals.  In  et  word,  we  find  in  these  republics, 
otherwise  so  energetic,  so  brilliant,  and  so  rich,  two  thing* 

(wanting — security  of  life,  the  first  requisite  in  the  social  state, 
wid  the  progress  of  institutions 

(  From  these  causes  sprung  a  new  evil,  which  prevented  the 


•  IVILIZAT10N    IN    MODI  1..  221 

,j>i  at  republican  organisation  from  extending  itself     It 

was  from  without — it  was  from  foreign  sovereigns,  that  the 
greatest  danger  was  threatened  to  Italy.  Still  this  danger  never 
succeeded  in  reconciling  these  republics,  in  making  them  all 
act  in  concert ;  they  were  never  ready  to  resist  in  common 
the  common  enemy.  This  lias  led  many  Italians,  the  moal 
enlightened,  the  best  of  patriots,  to  deplore,  in  the  present 
day,  the  republican  system  of  Italy  in  the  middle  ages,  as  the 
true  cause  which  hindered  it  from  becoming  a  nation  ;  it  was 
parcelled  out,  they  say,  into  a  multitude  of  little  states,  not 
sufficiently  master  of  their  passions  to  confederate,  to  consti- 
tute themselves  into  one  united  body.  They  regret  that  their 
country  has  not,  like  the  rest  of  Europe,  been  subject  to  a 
despotic  centralization  which  would  have  formed  it  into  a  na- 
tion, and  rendered  it  independent  of  the  foreigner. 

It  appears,  then,  that  republican  organization,  even  under 
the  most  favorable  circumstances,  did  not  contain,  at  this  pe« 
riod,  any  more  than  it  has  done  since,  the  principle  of  progress, 
duration,  and  extension.     We  may  compare,  up  to  a  certain' 
point,  the  organization  of  Italy,  in  the  middle  ages,  to  that  of 
ancient  Greece.     Greece,  like  Italy,  was  a  country  covered 
with  little  republics,  always  rivals,  sometimes  enemies,  and 
sometimes  rallying  together  for  a  common  object.     In  this 
comparison  the  advantage  is  altogether  on  the  side  of  Greece 
There  is  no  doubt,  notwithstanding  the  frequent  iniquities  that 
history  makes  known,  but  that  there  was  much  more  order  j 
security,  and  justice  in  the  interior  of  Athens,  Lacedemon/ 
and  Thebes,  than  in  the  Italian  republics.     See,  however, 
notwithstanding  this,  how  short  was  the  political  career  of 
Greece,  and  what  a  principle  of  weakness  is  contained  in  this, 
parcelling  out  of  territory  and  power.    No  sooner  did  Greece  I 
come  in  contact  with  the  great  neighboring  states,  with  Mace-/ 
don  and    Rome,  than   she  fell.     These  little   republics,  so 
glorious  and  still  so  flourishing,  could  not  coalesce  to  resist. 
How  much  more  likely  was  this  to  be  the  case  in  Italy,  where 
society  and  human  reason  had  made  no  such  strides  as  in 
Greece,  and  consequently  possessed  much  less  power. 

If  the  attempt  at  republican  organization  had  so  little 
chance  of  stability  in  Italy  where  it  had  triumphed,  where 
the  feudal  system  had  been  overcome,  it  may  easily  be  sup- 


222  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

j  posed  that  it  was  much  less  likely  to  succeed  in  the  mhei 

/  parts  of  Europe. 

V       I  shall  take  a  rapid  survey  of  its  fortunes. 

THere  was  one  portion  of  Europe  which  bore  a  great  re- 
semblance to  Italy ;    he  south  of  France,  and  the  adjoining 
provinces  of  Spain,   Catalonia,    Navarre,    and   Biscay.     In 
these  districts  the  cities  had  made  nearly  the  same  progress, 
and  had  risen  to  considerable  importance  and  wealth.    Many 
little  feudal  nobles  had  here  allied  themselves  with  the  citi- 
zens ;  a  part  of  the  clergy  had  likewise  embraced  their  cause  ; 
in  a  word,  the  country  in  these  respects  was  another  Italy. 
/So  also,  in  the  course  of  the  eleventh  and  beginning  of  the 
/twelfth  century,  the  towns  of  Provence,  of  Languedoc,  and 
I  Acquitaine,  made  a  political  effort  and  formed  themselves  into 
I  free  republics,  as  haa  been  done  by  the  towns  on  the  other 
^side  of  the  Alps.     But  the  south  of  France  was  connected 
with  a  very  powerful  branch  of  the  feudal  system,  that  of  the 
North.     The  heresy  of  the  Albigenses  appeared.     A  war 
broke  out  between  feudal  France  and  municipal  France.  The 
history  of  the  crusade  against  the  Albigenses,  commanded  by 
Simon  de  Montfort,*is  well  known :  it  was  the  struggle  of  the 
feudalism  of  the  North  against  the  attempt  at  democratic  or- 
ganization of  the    South.     Notwithstanding   the   efforts    of 
(  Southern  patriotism,  the   North   gained   the    day;   political 
unity  was  wanting  in  the  South,  but  civilization  was  not  yet 
sufficiently  advanced  there  to  enable  men  to  bring  it  about. 

(This  attempt  at  republican  organization  was  put  down,  and 
the  crusade  re-established  the  feudal  system  in  the  south  of 
France. 


(th 


A  republican  attempt  succeeded  better  a  little  later,  among 
the  Swiss  mountains.  Here,  the  theatre  was  very  narrow, 
the  struggle  was  only  against  a  foreign  monarch,  who,  al- 
though much  more  powerful  than  the  Swiss,  was  not  one  of 
the  most  formidable  sovereigns  of  Europe.  The  contest  was 
carried  or.  with  a  great  display  of  courage.  The  Swiss  feu« 
dal  nobility  allied  themselves,  for  the  most  part,  with  the  cities  • 
a  powerful  help,  which  also  raised  the  character  of  the  revo- 
lution it  sustained,  and  stamped  it  with  a  more  aristocratical 
and  stationary  character  than  it  seemingly  ought  to  have 
borne. 


I 


I  cross  to  the  north  of  France,  to  the  free  towns  of  Flan' 


rivtl.I/.A  HON     IN     Mobi.RN     KOROPJt 

lers,  to  those  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine,  and  belonging  to  \ 
(he  Qtaseatio  League.  Here  the  democratic  organization 
completely  triumphed  in  the  internal  government  of  the  cities ; 
bat  from  its  origin,  it  is  evident,  that  it  was  not  destined  to 
tike  entire  possession  of  society.  The  free  towns  of  the 
North  were  surrounded,  pressed  on  every  side  by  feudalism, 
by  barons,  and  sovereigns,  to  such  an  extent  that  they  were 
mtly  obliged  to  stand  upon  the  defensive  It  is  scarce- 
ly necessary  to  say,  that  they  did  not  trouble  themselves  to 
make  conquests  ;  they  defended  themselves  sometimes  well 
and  sometimes  badly.  They  preserved  their  privileges,  but 
they  remained  confined  to  the  inside  of  their  walls.  Within 
these,  democratic  organization  was  shut  up  and  arrested  ;  if 
we  walk  abroad  over  the  face  of  the  country,  we  find  no  sem- 
blance of  it. 

Such,  then,  was  the  state  of  the  republican  attempt :  trium- 
phant in  Italy,  but  with  little  hope  of  duration  and  progress  ; 
vanquished  in  the  south  of  Gaul ;  victorious  upon  a  small 
scale  in  the  mountains  of  Switzerland ;  while  in  the  North, 
in  the  free  communities  of  Flanders,  the  Rhine,  and  Han- 
seatic  league,  it  was  condemned  not  to  appear  outside  theii 
walls.  Still,  even  in  this  state,  evidently  inferior  to  the  other 
elements  of  society,  it  inspired  the  feudal  nobility  with  pro- 
digious terror.  The  barons  became  jealous  of  the  wealth  of 
the  cities,  they  feared  their  power ;  the  spirit  of  democracy 
stole  into  the  country ;  insurrections  of  the  peasantry  became 
more  frequent  and  obstinate.  In  nearly  every  part  of  Europe 
a  coalition  was  formed  among  the  nobles  against  the  free 
cities.  The  parties  were  not  equal ;  the  cities  were  isolated ; 
there  was  no  correspondence  or  intelligence  between  them ; 
all  was  local.  It  may  be  true  that  there  existed,  between  the 
burgesses  of  different  countries,  a  certain  degree  of  sympathy ; 
the  success  or  reverses  of  the  towns  of  Flanders,  in  their 
struggles  with  the  dukes  of  Burgundy,  excited  a  lively  sen- 
ration  in  the  French  cities  :  but  this  was  very  fleeting,  and 
led  to  no  result ;  no  tie,  no  true  union  became  established  be- 
tween them  j  the  free  communities  lent  no  assistance  to  one 
another.  The  position  of  feudalism  was  much  superior  ;  yet 
divided,  and  without  any  plan  of  its  own,  it  was  never  able 
to  destroy  them.  After  the  struggle  had  lasted  a  considerable 
time,  when  the  conviction  became  settled  that  a  complete  vic- 
tory was  impossible,  concession  became  necessary;    these 


224  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

petty  burgher  republics  were  acknowledged,  negotiated  with 
and  admitted  as  members  of  the  state.  A  new  plan  was  now 
begun,  a  new  attempt  was  made  at  political  organization. 
The  object  of  this  was  to  conciliate,  to  reconcile,  to  make  to 
live  and  act  together,  in  spite  of  their  rooted  hostility,  tht 
various  elements  of  society;  that  is  to  say,  the  feudal  no- 
bility, the  free  cities,  the  clergy,  and  monarchs.  It  is  to  thi^ 
attempt  at  mixed  organization  that  I  have  still  to  claim  yom 
attention. 

I  presume  there  is  no  one  who  is  not  acquainted  with  the 
nature  of  the  States-general  of  France,  the  Cortes  of  Spain 
and  Portugal,  the  Parliament  of  England,  and  the  States  of 
Germany.  The  elements  of  these,  various  assemblies  were 
much  the  same  ;  that  is  to  say,  the  feudal  nobility,  the  clergy, 
and  the  cities  or  commons,  there  met  together  and  labored  to 
unite  themselves  into  one  sole  society,  into  one  same  state, 
under  one  same  law,  one  same  authority.  Whatever  their 
various  names,  this  was  the  tendency,  the  design  of  all. 
y  Let  us  take,  as  the  type  of  this  attempt,  the  fact  which 
most  interests  us,  as  well  as  being  best  known  to  us — the 
States-general  of  France.  I  say  this  fact  is  best  known, 
while  I  am  still  sure  that  the  term  States-general  awakens  in 
none  of  you  more  than  a  vague  and  incomplete  idea.  Who 
can  say  what  there  was  in  it  of  stability,  of  regularity ;  the 
number  of  its  members,  the  subjects  of  their  deliberations, 
the  times  at  which  they  were  convoked,  or  the  length  of  their 
sessions  ?  Of  all  this  we  know  nothing,  and  it  is  impossible 
to  obtain  from  history  any  clear,  general,  satisfactory  infor- 
mation respecting  it.  The  best  accounts  we  can  gather  from 
the  history  of  France,  as  regards  the  character  of  these  as- 
semblies, would  almost  lead  us  to  consider  them  as  pure  ac- 
cidents, as  the  last  political  resort  both  of  people  and  kings  ; 
the  last  resort  of  kings,  when  they  had  no  money  and  knew 
not  how  to  free  themselves  from  embarrassment ;  the  last  re- 
sort of  the  people,  when  some  evil  became  so  great  that  they 
knew  not  what  remedy  to  apply  to  it.  The  nobles  formed 
part  of  the  States-general ;  so  did  the  clergy  ;  but  they  came 
wo  them  with  little  interest,  for  they  knew  well  that  it  waa  not 
hi  these  assemblies  that  they  possessed  the  greatest  influence, 
thai  it  was  not  there  that  they  took  a  true  part  in  the  govern- 
ment. The  burgesses  themselves  were  not  eager  to  attend 
hem ;  it  was  not  a  righ*  which  they  were  inxious  to  exe?- 


CIVILISATION    is   modlkn    BUROPI.  225 

jise,  but  ratner  a  neces»>.y  to  which  they  submitted.  Again, 
what  was  the  character  of  the  political  proceedings  of  these 
assemblies  ?  At  one  time  wo  find  them  perfectly  insignifi- 
emat,  at  others  terrible.  If  the  king  was  the  stronger,  the'f 
humility  and  docility  were  extreme  ;  if  the  situation  of  the 
monarch  was  unfortunate,  if  he  really  needed  the  assistance 
of  the  States,  they  then  became  factious,  either  the  instru* 
ment  of  some  aristocratic  intrigue,  or  of  some  ambitious  dema- 
gogues. Their  works  died  almost  always  with  them ;  they 
promised  much,  they  attempted  much, — and  did  nothing.  No 
great  measure  which  has  truly  had  any  iufluence  upon  society 
in  France,  no  important  reform  either  in  the  general  legisla 
tion  or  administration,  ever  emanated  from  the  States  general. 
It  must  not,  however,  be  supposed  that  they  have  been  alto- 
gether useless,  or  without  effect ;  they  had  a  moral  effect,  ot 
which  in  general  we  take  too  little  account ;  they  served  from 
time  to  time  as  a  protestation  against  political  servitude,  a 
forcible  proclamation  of  certain  guardian  principles, — such, 
for  example,  as  that  a  nation  has  the  right  to  vote  its  own 
s  to  take  part  in  its  own  affairs,  to  impose  a  responsi- 
bility upon  the  agents  of  power.  That  these  maxims  have 
never  perished  in  France,  is  mainly  owing  to  the  States-gene- 
ral ;  and  it  is  no  slight  service  rendered  to  a  country,  to  main- 
tain among  its  virtues,  to  keep  alive  in  its  thoughts,  the  re- 
membrance and  claims  of  liberty.  The  States-general  has 
done  us  this  service,  but  it  never  became  a  means  of  govern- 
ment ;  it  never  entered  upon  political  organization  ;  it  never 
attained  the  object  for  which  it  was  formed,  that  is  to  say,  the 
fusion  into  one  only  body  of  the  various  societies  which  di- 
vided the  country.23 

The  Cortes  of  Portugal  and  Spain  offered  the  same  general 
result,  though  in  a  thousand  circumstances  they  differ.  The 
importance  of  the  Cortes"Varied  according  to  the  kingdoms, 
ind  times  at  which  they  were  held ;  they  were  most  power- 

33  The  first  States-general  of  France,  in  the  proper  meaning  of 
me  word,  as  including  the  clergy,  nobility,  and  commons  or  depu- 
ties from  the  towns,  was  convoked  by  Philip  the  Fair  in  1302.  The 
feudal  nobility  had  before  this  time  submitted  to  the  appellant  ju- 
risdiction of  the  crown,  exercised  by  the  royal  tribunals ; — they  had 
also  lost  the  legislative  supremacy  in  their  fiefs ;  and  now,  by  allow- 
ing the  commons  to  become  a  co-ordinate  branch  of  the  national  le- 
gislature, they  lost  their  last  privilege  of  territorial  independence 


226  GENERAL    HISTORY     Or* 

ful  and  most  frequently  convoked  in  Aragon  and  Biscay, 
during  the  disputes  for  the  successions  to  the  crown,  and  the 
struggles  against  the  Moors.  To  some  of  the  Cortes — for 
example,  that  of  Castile,  1370  and  1373 — neither  the  nobles 
ilor  the  clergy  were  called.  There  were  a  thousand  acci- 
dents which  it  would  be  necessary  to  notice,  if  we  had  time 
to  look  closely  into  events  ;  but  in  the  general  sketch  to  which 
I  am  obliged  to  confine  myself  it  will  be  enough  to  state  tha*. 
the  Cortes,  like  the  States-general  of  France,  have  been  an 
accident  in  history,  and  never  a  system — never  a  political  or 
ganization,  or  regular  means  of  government.24 

The  lot  of  England  has  been  different.  I  shall  not,  how- 
ever, enter  into  any  detail  upon  this  subject  at  present,  as  it 

24  The  cities  of  Castile  were  early  invested  with  chartered  privi- 
leges, including  civil  rights  and  extensive  property,  on  condition  ol 
protecting  their  country.  The  deputies  of  the  cities  are  not  how- 
ever mentioned  as  composing  a  branch  of  the  Cortes  or  general  legis- 
lative council  of  the  nation  until  1169,  and  then  in  only  one  case. 
But  from  the  year  1189,  they  became  a  regular  and  essential  part 
of  that  assembly.  Subsequently,  through  the  exercise  of  the  royal 
prerogative  in  withholding  the  writ  of  summons,  and  through  the 
neglect  of  many  cities  in  sending  deputies,  the  representation  be- 
came extremely  limited;  and  the  privilege  itself  was  graduallv 
lost ;  so  that  in  1480  only  seventeen  cities  retained  the  right  ol 
sending  representatives.  The  concurrence  of  the  Cortes  of  Castile 
was  necessary  to  all  taxation  and  grants  of  money,  and  also  to  legis- 
lation in  general,  as  well  as  to  the  determination  of  all  great  and 
weighty  affairs.  The  nobles  and  clergy  formed  the  two  other  es- 
tates of  the  Cortes;  but  they  seem  to  have  been  less  regularly  sum- 
moned than  even  the  deputies  of  the  towns. 

In  the  kingdom  of  Aragon,  no  law  could  be  enacted  or  repealed 
without  the  consent  of  the  Cortes;  and  by  the  "  General  Privilege,'' 
i  sort  of  Magna  Charta,  granted  in  1283,  this  body  was  to  be  as- 
semoled  every  year  at  Saragossa — thotlgh  it  was  afterwards  sum- 
moned once  in  two  years,  and  the  place  of  assembling  left  to  the 
discretion  of  the  king.  The  Cortes  of  this  kingdom  consisted  of 
four  estates  :  the  prelates ;  the  commanders  of  military  orders,  who 
were  reckoned  as  ecclesiastics;  the  barons  ;  the  knights  or  infan- 
zones  ;  and  the  deputies  of  the  royal  towns.  This  body  by  itself, 
when  in  session,  and  by  a  commission  during  its  recess,  exercised 
very  considerable  powers,  both  legislative  and  administrative.  Va- 
lencia and  Catalonia  had  also  each  its  separate  Cortes  both  before 
and  after  their  union  with  Aragon.  See  Hallam,  Middle  Ages* 
Vcl.  I.  Chap.  IV 


I   IVII.IZA  HON     IN     MODERN      EUROPE.  '2'2l 

is  my  intention  to  devote  a  future  lecture  to  the  special  con- 
Milrration  of  the  political  life  of  England.  All  I  inal]  now  do 
is  to  say  a  few  words  upon  the  causes  which  gave  it  a  direc- 
tion totally  different  from  that  of  the  continental  states. 

And,  first,  there  were  no  great  vassals,  no  subjects  sufficient- 
ly powerful  to  enter  single-handed  into  a  contest  with  the  J 
crown.  The  great  barons  were  obliged,  at  a  very  early  pe- 
riod, to  coalesce,  in  order  to  make  a  common  resistance. 
Thus  the  principle  of  association,  and  proceedings  truly  po- 
litical, were  forced  upon  the  high  aristocracy.  Besides  this, 
Englisk  feudalism — the  little  holders  of  fiefs — were  brought 
by  a  train  of  circumstances,  which  I  cannot  here  recount,  to 
unite  themselves  with  the  burgher  class,  to  sit  with  them  in 
•  he  House  of  Commons  ;  and  by  this,  the  Commons  obtained 
in  England  a  power  much  superior  to  those  on  the  Continent, 
a  power  really  capable  of  influencing  the  government  of  the 
country.  In  the  fourteenth  century,  the  character  of  the  Eng- 
lish Parliament  was  already  formed:  the  House  of  Lords 
was  the  great  council  of  the  king,  a  council  effectively  asso- 
ciated in  the  exercise  of  authority.  The  House  of  Commons, 
composed  of  deputies  from  the  little  possessors  of  fiefs,  and 
from  the  cities,  took,  as  yet,  scarcely  any  part  in  the  govern- 
ment, properly  so  called  ;  but  it  asserted  and  established 
rights,  it  defended  with  great  spirit  private  and  local  interests. 
Parliament,  considered  as  a  whole,  did  not  yet  govern  ;  but 
already  it  was  a  regular  institution,  a  means  of  government 
adopted  in  principle,  and  often  indispensable  in  fact.  Thus 
ihe  attempt  to  bring  together  the  various  elements  of  society, 
and  to  form  them  into  one  body  politic,  one  true  state  or  com- 
monwealth, did  succeed  in  England  while  it  failed  in  every 
part  of  the  Continent. 

\ 

I  shall  not  offer  more  than  one  remark  upon  Germany,  and 
that  only  to  indicate  the  prevailing  character  of  its  history. 
The  attempta  made  here  at  political  organization,  to  melt  into 
one  body  the  various  elements  of  society,  were  spiritless  and 
coldly  followed  up.  These  social  elements  had  remained 
here  more  distinct,  more  independent  than  in  the  rest  of  Eu- 
rope. Were  any  proof  of  this  wanting,  it  might  be  found  in 
its  later  usages.  Germany  is  the  only  country  of  Europe 
(I  say  nothing  of  Poland  and  the  Sclavonian  nations,  which 
entered  so  very  late  into  the  European  system  of  civilization) 
in  which  feudal  election  has  for  a  long  time  taken  part  in  the 


228  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF    CIVILIZATION. 

election  of  royalty  ;  it  is  likewise  the  only  country  of  Europe 
in  which  ecclesiastical  sovereigns  were  continued  ;  the  only 
one  in  which  were  preserved  free  cities  with  a  true  political 
existence  and  sovereignty.  It  is  clear,  therefore,  that  the  at- 
tempt to  fuse  the  elements  of  primitive  European  society  into 
one  social  body,  must  have  been  much  less  active  and  effect 
live  in  Germany  than  in  any  other  nation. 


I  have  now  run  over  all  the  great  attempts  at  political  or- 
ganization which  were  made  in  Europe,  down  to  the  end  of 
the  fourteenth  or  beginning  of  the  fifteenth  century.  All 
these  failed.  I  have  endeavored  to  point  out,  in  going  along, 
the  causes  of  these  failures ;  to  speak  truly,  they  may  all  be 
summed  up  in  one  :  society  was  not  yet  sufficiently  advanced 
to  adapt  itself  to  unity  ;  all  was  yet  too  local,  too  special,  too 
narrow ;  too  many  differences  prevailed  both  in  things  and  in 
minds.  There  were  no  general  interests,  no  general  opinions 
capable  of  guiding,  of  bearing  sway  over  particular  interests 
and  particular  opinions.     The  most  enlightened  minds,  the 

^boldest  thinkers,  had  as  yet  no  just  idea  of  administration  or 
justice  truly  public.  It  was  evidently  necessary  that  a  very 
\  active,  powerful  civilization  should  first  mix,  assimilate,  grind 
together,  as  it  were,  all  these  incoherent  elements  ;  it  was 
necessary  that  there  should  first  be  a  strong  centralization  of 
interests,  laws,  manners,  ideas  ;  it  was  necessary,  in  a  word, 
that  there  should  be  created  a  public  authority  and  a  public 
opinion.     We  are  now  drawing  near  to  the  period  in  which 

(  this  great  work  was  at  last  consummated.  Its  first  symptoms — ■ 
the  state  of  manners,  mind,  and  opinions,  during  the  fifteenth 
century,  their  tendency  towards  the  formation  of  a  central 
government  and  a  public  opinion  —will  be  the  subject  of  tre 
following  lecture. 


LECTURE    XI 

CKNTKAL1ZATI0N    OF    NATIONS    AND    GOVKRNMF.NTb 

We  have  now  reached  the  threshold  of  modern  history,  in 
the  proper  sense  of  the  term.  We  now  approach  that  state 
of  society  which  may  be  considered  as  our  own,  and  the  in- 
stitutions, the  opinions,  and  the  manners  which  were  those  of 
France  forty  years  ago,  are  those  of  Europe  still,  and,  not- 
withstanding the  changes  produced  by  our  revolution,  continue 
to  exercise  a  powerful  influence  upon  us.  It  is  in  the  six7\ 
teenth  century,  as  I  have  already  told  you,  that  modern  soy 
ciety  really  commences. 

Before  entering  into  a  consideration  of  this  period,  let  us 
review  the  ground  over  which  we  have  already  passed.  We 
have  discovered  among  the  ruins  of  the  Roman  Empire,  all 
the  essential  elements  of  modern  Europe  ;  we  have  seen  them 
separate  themselves  and  expand,  each  on  its  own  account, 
and  independently  of  the  others.  We  have  observed,  during 
the  first  historical  period,  the  constant  tendency  of  these  ele- 
ments to  separation,  and  to  a  local  and  special  existence.  But 
scarcely  has  this  object  appeared  to  be  attained  ;  scarcely 
have  feudalism,  municipal  communities,  and  the  clergy,  each 
taken  their  distinct  place  and  form,  when  we  have  seen  them 
tend  to  approximate,  unite,  and  form  themselves  into  a  gen- 
eral social  system,  into  a  national  body,  a  national  govern- 
ment. To  arrive  at  this  result,  the  various  countries  of  Europe 
had  recourse  to  all  the  different  systems  which  existed  among 
them  :  they  endeavored  to  lay  the  foundations  of  social  union, 
and  of  political  and  moral  obligations,  on  the  principles  of 
theocracy,  of  aristocracy,  of  democracy,  and  of  monarchy. 
Hitherto  all  these  attempts  have  failed.  No  particular  sys-\ 
.em  has  been  able  to  take  possession  of  society,  and  to  secure  ) 
it,  by  its  sway,  a  destiny  truly  public.  We  have  traced  the 
cause  of  this  failure  to  the  absence  of  general  interests  and 
general  ideas  :  we  have  found  that  everything,  as  yet,  was  too 
special,  too  individual,  too  local  ;  that  a  long  and  powerful 


230  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

I  process  of  centralization  was  necessary,  in  order  that  society 
Imight  become  at  once   extensive,  solid,  and  regular,  the  ob- 
ject which  it  necessarily  seeks  to  attain.     Such  was  the 
state  in  which  we  left  E  lrope  at  the  close  of  the  fourteenth 
century. 

Europe,  however,  was  then  very  far  from  understanding 
ner  own  state,  such  as  I  have  now  endeavored  to  explain  it 
to  you.  She  did  not  know  distinctly  what  she  required,  01 
what  she  was  in  search  of.  Yet  she  set  about  endeavoring 
to  supply  her  wants  as  if  she  knew  perfectly  what  they  were 

(When  the  fourteenth  century  had  expired,  after  the  failure  of 
every  attempt  at  political  organization,  Europe  entered  natu- 
rally, and  as  if  by  instinct,  into  the  path  of  centralization.  It 
is  the  characteristic  of  the  fifteenth  century  that  it  constantly 
tended  to  this  result,  that  it  endeavored  to  create  general  in- 
terests and  general  ideas,  to  raise  the  minds  of  men  to  more 
enlarged  views,  and  to  create,  in  short,  what  had  not,  till  then, 
existed  on  a  great  scale — nations  and  governments. 

The  actual  accomplishment  of  this  change  belongs  to  the 
sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  though  it  was  in  the  fif- 
teenth that  it  was  prepared.  It  is  this  preparation,  this  silen1. 
and  hidden  process  of  centralization,  both  in  the  social  rela- 
tions and  in  the  opinions  of  men — a  process  accomplished, 
without  premeditation  or  design,  by  the  natural  course  of 
events — that  we  have  now  to  make  the  subject  of  our  inquiry. 

It  is  thus  that  man  advances  in  the  execution  of  a  plan 
which  he  has  not  conceived,  and  of  which  he  is  not  even 
aware.  He  is  the  free  and  intelligent  artificer  of  a  work 
which  is  not  his  own.  He  does  not  perceive  or  comprehend 
it,  till  it  manifests  itself  by  external  appearances  and  real  re- 
sults ;  and  even  then  he  comprehends  it  very  incompletely. 
It  is  through  his  means,  however,  and  by  the  development  of 
his  intelligence  and  freedom,  that  it  is  accomplished.  Con- 
ceive a  great  machine,  the  design  of  which  is  centred  in  a 
single  mind,  though  its  various  parts  are  intrusted  to  different 
workmen,  separated  from,  and  strangers  to  each  other.  No 
:>ne  of  them  understands  the  work  as  a  whole,  nor  tne  gen- 
eral result  which  he  concurs  in  pioducing  ;  but  every  one  ex- 
ecutes, with  intelligence  and  freedom,  by  rational  and  voluntary 
<icts,  the  particular  task  assigned  to  him.  It  is  thus,  that  by 
die  hand  of  man,  the  design?  of  Providence  arc  wrought  out 


CIVILIZATION    IN     MOEr.RN    BtfROl  281 

n  the  government  of  the  world.  It  is  thus  that  the  two  groal  Uz^ 
acts  which  are  apparent  in  the  history  of  civilization  come 
to  co-exist ;  on  the  one  hand,  those  portions  of  it  which  may 
be  considered  is  fated,  or  which  happen  without  the  control 
of  human  knowledge  or  will ;  on  the  other  hand,  the  part 
nlayed  in  it  by  the  freedom  and  intelligence  of  man,  and  wha 
tie  contributes  to  it  by  means  of  his  own  judgment  and  will.  / 

In  order  that  we  may  clearly  understand  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury ;  in  order  that  we  mny  give  a  distinct  account  of  this  pre- 
lude, if  we  may  use  the  expression,  to  the  state  of  society  in 
modern  times,  we  will  separate  the  facts  which  bear  upon  the 
subject  into  different  classes:  We  will  first  examine  the  politi- 
cal facts — the  changes  which  have  tended  to  the  formation 
either  of  nations  or  of  governments.  From  thence  we  will 
proceed  to  the  moral  facts  :  we  will  consider  the  changes 
which  took  place  in  ideas  and  in  manners  ;  and  we  shall  then 
see  what  general  opinions  began,  from  that  period,  to  be  in  a 
state  of  preparation. 

In  regard  to  political  facts,  in  order  to  proceed  with  quick- 
ness and  simplicity,  I  shall  survey  all  the  great  countries  of 
Europe,  and  place  before  you  the  influence  which  the  fifteenth 
century  had  upon  them — how  it  found  them,  how  it  left  them. 

I  shall  begin  with  France.  The  last  half  of  the  fourteenth, 
and  the  first  half  of  the  fifteenth  century,  were,  as  you  all 
know,  a  time  of  great  national  wars  against  the  English. 
This  was  the  period  of  the  struggle  for  the  independence  of 
the  French  territory  and  the  French  name  against  foreign 
domination.  It  is  sufficient  to  open  the  book  of  history,  to 
see  with  what  ardor,  notwithstanding  a  multitude  of  treasons 
and  dissensions,  all  classes  of  society  in  France  joined  in  this 
struggle,  and  what  patriotism  animated  the  feudal  nobility,  the 
burghers,  and  even  the  peasantry.  If  we  had  nothing  but  the\ 
btory  of  Joan  of  Arc  to  show  the  popular  spirit  of  the  time,  it  ) 
ilone  would  suffice  for  that  purpose.  Joan  of  Arc  sprang  from 
among  the  people  ;  it  was  by  the  sentiments,  the  religious 
belief,  the  passions  of  the  people,  that  she  was  inspired  and 
supported.  She  was  looked  upon  with  mistrust,  with  ridicule, 
with  enmity  even,  by  the  nobles  of  the  court  and  tbe  leaders 
jf  the  army  ;  but  she  had  always  the  soldiers  and  the  people 
on  her  side.     It  was  the  peasants  of  Lorraine  who  sent  her 


232  GENERAL    HISTORY   0* 

to  succor  the  citizens  of  Orleans.  No  event  could  show  in 
a  stronger  lignt  the  popular  character  of  that  war,  and  the  feel- 
ing with  which  the  whole  country  engaged  in  it. 

Thus  the  nationality  of  France  began  to  be  formed.  Down 
to  the  reign  of  tne  nouse  of  Valois,  the  feudal  character  pre- 
vailed in  France  ;  a  French  nation,  a  French  spirit,  French 
patriotism,  as  yet  had  no  existence.  With  the  princes  of  the 
(  house  of  Valois  begins  the  history  of  France,  properly  so 
V^alled.25  It  was  in  the  course  of  their  wars,  amid  the  various 
turns  of  their  fortune,  that,  for  the  first  time,  the  nobility,  the 
citizens,  the  peasants,  were  united  by  a  moral  tie,  by  the  tie  of 
a  common  name,  a  common  honor,  and  by  one  burning  desire 
to  overcome  the  foreign  invader.  We  must  not,  however,  at 
this  time,  expect  to  find  among  them  any  real  political  spirit, 
any  great  design  of  unity  in  government  and  institutions,  ac- 
cording to  the  conceptions  of  the  present  day.  The  unity  of 
France,  at  that  period,  dwelt  in  her  name,  in  her  rational  ho- 
nor, in  the  existence  of  a  national  monarchy,  no  matter  of  what 
character,  provided  that  no  foreigner  had  anything  to  do  with 
it.     It  was  in  this  way  that  the  struggle  against  the  English 

/  contributed  strongly  to  form  the  French  nation,  and  to  impet 

I     it  towards  unity. 

At  the  same  time  that  France  was  thus  forming  herself  in  a 
moral  point  of  view,  she  was  also  extending  herself  physi- 
calry,  as  it  may  be  called,  by  enlarging,  fixing,  and  consoli- 
dating her  territory.  This  was  the  period  of  the  incorpora- 
tion of  most  of  the  provinces  which  now  constitute  France. 
Under  Charles  VII.,  [1422 — 1461]  after  the  expulsion  of  the 
English,  almost  all  the  provinces  which  they  had  occupied — 
Normandy,  Angoumois,  Touraine,  Poitou,  Saintonge,  etc., 
became  definitively  French.  Under  Louis  XL,  [1461 — 1483] 
ten  provinces,  three  of  which  have  been  since  lost  and  regain- 
ed, were  also  united  to  France — Roussillon  and  Cerdagne, 
Burgundy,  Franche-Conte,  Picardy,  Artois,  Provence,  Maine, 
Anjou,  and  Perche.  Under  Charles  VIII.  and  Louis  XII 
[1483 — 1515]  the  successive  marriages  of  Anne  with  these 
two  kings  gave  her  Britany.  Thus,  at  the  same  period,  and 
luring  the  course  of  the  same  events,  France,  morally  as  well 
}s  physically,  acquired  at  once  strength  and  unity. 
t  Let  us  turn  from  the  nation  to  the  government,  and  we  shall 

28  Pnilip  VI.,  the  fir?t  kin?  of  the  lions'1  of  Valois,  came  to  ftc 
throne  in  1328. 


(  l  v  i )  !  /  :  )  . 

BCC  the  accomplishment  of  events    of  Am    same    n..tnre  ;   v.e 
shall  advance  towards  tlio  same  result.      The  French  govern. 
ment  had  never  been  more  destitute  of  unity,  of  cohesion,  and 
of  strength,  than  under  the  reign  of  Charles  VI.,  [1380 — 1122] 
and  during  the  first  part  of  the  reign  of  Charles  VII.     At  the\ 
end  of  this  reign,  [1461]  the  appearance  of  everything  was  . 
changed.     There  were  evident  marks  of  a  power  which  waijj 
confirming,  extending,  organizing  itself.      All  the  great  re>\ 
sources  of  government,  taxation,  military  force,  and  adminis-/ 
tration  of  justice,  were  created  on  a  great  scale,  and  almost 
simultaneously.     This  was  the  period  of  the  formation  of  a\ 
standing  army,  of  permanent  militia,  and  of  compagnies-tPoT") 
rfonnance,  consisting  of  cavalry,  free  archers,  and  infantry. 
By  these  companies,  Charles  VII.  re-established  a  degree  of 
order  in  the  provinces,  which  had  been  desolated  by  the  li- 
cense and  exactions  of  the  soldiery,  even  after  the  war  had 
ceased.     All  contemporary  historians  expatiate  on  the  won^ 
derful  effects  of  the  cumpagnies-d'ordonnance.     It  was  at  this 
period  that  the  taille,  one  of  the   principal  revenues  of  the 
crown,  was  made  perpetual ;  a  serious  inroad  on  the  liberty 
of  the  people,  but  which  contributed  powerfully  to  the  regu- 
larity and  strength  of  the  government.26     At  the  same  time 

26  The  general  term  taille,  or  tax,  seems  here  appropriated  to  the 
particular  tax  made  perpetual  in  the  reign  of  Charles  VII.,  who 
frequently  levied  money  by  his  own  authori  ty.  In  general  the  kings 
did  not  claim  the  absolute  prerogative  of  imposing  taxes  without 
the  consent  of  the  Slates-general;  though  they  often  in  emergen- 
cies violently  stretched  their  power.  The  taille  was  commonly 
assessed  by  respectable  persons  chosen  by  the  advice  of  the  parish 

firiests — a  privilege  of  importance  to  the  tax-payers,  who  were  al- 
owed  some  voice  in  the  repartition  of  the  tax.  This  is,  however, 
entirely  distinct  from  that  consent  of  the  people  to  the  tax  which 
the  theory  of  the  French  constitution  made  requisite.  It  is  assert- 
ed that  this  perpetual  taille  was  granted  by  the  Slates-general  in 
1433,  but  this  does  not  appear  in  the  terms  of  any  ordinance. 

One  thing  is  certain,  that  this  tax,  whether  at  first  established 
with  or  without  the  concurrence  of  the  States-general,  was  per- 
petual, and  managed  without  any  check  upon  the  crown.  The  twe 
acts  of  the  reign  of  Charles  VII.,  the  establishment  of  a  standing 
military  force,  and  a  perpetual  tax  for  its  support,  were  the  great 
evente  of  the  period,  and  fatal  to  the  liberties  of  France.  There' 
W8S  henceforth  but  little  check  to  the  increasing  power  of  the  crown. 
The  nobles  lost  their  political  influence;  the  people  gained  noth- 
ing The  precedent  was  improved  by  succeeding  monarchs,  until 
.he  absolute  despotism  of  the  crown  was  completely  established. 


234  GENERAL    HISTORY    OV 

/  vhe  great  instrument  of  power,  the  administration  of  justice, 
was  extended  and  organized ;  parliaments  were  multiplied 
five  new  parliaments  having  been  instituted  in  a  short  space 
of  time  : — under  Louis  XL,  the  parliaments  of  Grenoble  (in 
1451),  of  Bordeaux  (in  1462),  and  of  Dijon  (in  1477)  ;  under 
Louis  XIL,  the  parliaments  of  Rouen  (in  1499),  and  of  Aix 
(in  1501.)  The  parliament  of  Paris  also  acquired,  about  the 
same  time,  much  additional  importance  and  stability,  both  in 
regard  to  the  administration  of  justice,  and  the  superintend- 
ence of  the  police  within  its  jurisdiction. 

/"  Thus,  in  relation  to  the  military  force,  the  power  of  taxa- 
tion, and  the  administration  of  justice,  that  is  to  say,  in  regard 
;  ^o  those  things  which  form  its  essence,  government  acquired 
in  France,  in  the  fifteenth  century,  a  character  of  unity, 
regularity,  and  permanence,  previously  unknown;  and  the 
feudal  powers  were  finally  superseded  by  the  power  of  the 
state. 

/"At  the  same  time,  too,  was  accomplished  a  change  of  very 
Qlifferent  character ;  a  change  not  so  visible,  and  which  has 
not  so  much  attracted  the  notice  of  historians,  but  still  more 
important,  perhaps,  than  those  which  have  been  mentioned : 
Q — the  change  effected  by  Louis  XL  in  the  mode  of  governing 
/"  A  great  deal  has  been  said  about  the  struggle  of  Louis  XI 
[1461-1483]  against  the  grandees  of  the  kingdom,  of  theii 
depression,  and  of  his  partiality  for  the  citizens  and  the  in- 
ferior classes.  There  is  truth  in  all  this,  though  it  has  been 
much  exaggerated,  and  though  the  conduct  of  Louis  XL  to- 
wards the  different  classes  of  society  more  frequently  dis- 
turbed than  benefited  the  state.  But  he  did  something  of 
t deeper  import.  Before  his  time  the  government  had  been 
carried  on  almost  entirely  by  force,  and  by  mere  physical 
means.  Persuasion,  address,  care  in  working  upon  men's 
minds,  and  in  bringing  them  over  to  the  views  of  the  govern- 
ment— in  a  word,  what  is  properly  called  policy — a  policy, 
indeed,  of  falsehood  and  deceit,  but  also  of  management  and 
prudence — had  hitherto  been  little  attended  to.     Louis  XI, 

(substituted  intellectual  for  material  means,  cunning  for  force, 
Italian  for  feudal  policy.  Take  the  two  men  whose  rivalry 
engrosses  this  period  of  our  history,  Charles  the  Bold  and 
Louis  XL :  Charles  is  the  representative  of  the  old  mode  of 
governing ;  he  has  recourse  to  no  other  means  than  violence  ; 
tie  constantly  appeals  to  arms  ;  he  is  unsble  to  act  with  pa 


CIVILIZATION-     IN     MODKK.N     IQK01 

M  himself  to  the  dispositions  and  temper 
of  men  in  order  to  make  them  the  instruments  of  his  designs. 
Louis  21.,  on  the  contrary,  takes  pleasure  in  avoiding  the  use 
of  force,  and  in  gaining  an  ascendency  over  men,  by  conver- 
sation with  individuals,  and  by  skilfully  bringing  into  play, 
their  interests  and  peculiarities  of  character.  It  was  not  the 
public  institutions  or  the  external  system  of  government  that 
he  changed  ;  it  was  the  secret  proceedings,  the  tactics,  of 
power,  it  was  reserved  for  modern  times  to  attempt  a  still 
greater  revolution  ;  to  endeavor  to  introduce  into  the  means, 
ds  well  as  the  objects,  of  public  policy,  justice  in  place  of 
self-interest,  publicity  instead  of  cunning.  Still,  however,' 
great  step  was  gained  by  renouncing  the  continued  use  of 
force,  by  calling  in  the  aid  of  intellectual  superiority,  by 
governing  through  the  understandings  of  men,  and  not  by  over- 
turning every  thing  that  stood  in  the  way  of  the  exerefse  of 
power.  This  is  the  great  change  which,  among  all  his  error 
and  crimes,  in  spite  of  the  perversity  of  his  nature,  and  solely 
by  the  strength  of  his  powerful  intellect,  Louis  XI.  has  the 
merit  of  having  begun. 

From  France  I  turn  to  Spain;  and  there  I  find  movements 
of  the  same  nature.  It  was  also  in  the  fifteenth  century  that 
Spain  was  consolidated  into  one  kingdom.  At  this  time  an 
end  was  put  to  the  long  struggle  between  the  Christians  and 
Moors,  by  the  conquest  of  Grenada.  Then,  too,  the  Spanish 
territory  became  centralized :  by  the  marriage  of  Ferdinand 
the  Catholic,  and  Isabella,  the  two  principal  kingdoms,  Castile 
and  Arragon,  were  united  under  the  same  dominion.  In  the 
same  manner  as  in  France,  the  monarchy  was  extended  and 
confirmed.  It  was  supported  by  severer  institutions,  which  \ 
bore  more  gloomy  names.  Instead  of  parliaments,  it  was  the  J 
inquisition  that  had  its  origin  in  Spain.  It  contained  the 
germ  of  what  it  afterwards  became ;  but  at  first  it  was  of  a 
political  rather  than  a  religious  nature,  and  was  destined  to 
maintain  civil  order  rather  than  defend  religious  faith.  The 
analogy  between  the  countries  extends  beyond  their  institu- 
tions ;  it  is  observable  even  in  the  persons  of  the  sovereigns. 
With  less  subtlety  of  intellect,  and  a  less  active  and  intriguing^ 
spirit,  Ferdinand  the  Catholic,  in  his  character  and  govern- ] 
ment,  strongly  resembles  Louis  XL  I  pay  no  regard  to  ar- 
bitrary comparisons  or  fanciful  parallels  ;  but  'iere  the  analogy 


236  GENERAL    HISTORY    OY 

is  strong,  and  observable  in  general  facts  as  well  as  m  minute 
details. 

A  similar  analogy  may  be  discovered  In  Germany.     It  was 
{      in  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century,  i4n  1438,  that  the  house 
of  Austria  came  to  the  empire ;  and  that  the  imperial  power 
acquired  a  permanence  which  it  had  never  before  possessed. 
From  that  time  election  was  merely  a  sanction  given  to  here- 
ditary right.     At  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century,  Maximilian 
I.  definitively  established  the  preponderance  of  his  house  and 
the  regular  exercise  of  the  central  authority  ;  Charles  VII. 
was  the  first  in  France  who,  for  the  preservation  of  order, 
ycreated  a  permanent  militia ;  Maximilian,  too,  was  the  first  in 
his  hereditary  dominions,  who  accomplished  the  same  end  by 
>lhe  same  means.     Louis  XI.  had  established  in  France,  the 
f  post-o ffice  for  the  conveyance  of  letters  ;  Maximilian  I.  intro- 
l    duced  it  into  Germany.     In  the  progress  of  civilization  the 
]  same  steps  were  everywhere  taken,  in  a  similar  way,  for  the 
/  advantage  of  central  government. 

f  The  history  of  England  in  the  fifteenth  century  consists  ol 
'£gm£(\  vwo  great  events — the  war  with  France  abroad,  and  the  con- 
gest of  the  two  Roses  at  home.  These  two  wars,  though  dif- 
ferent in  their  nature,  were  attended  with  similar  results.  The 
contest  with  France  was  maintained  by  the  English  people 
with  a  degree  of  ardor  which  went  entirely  to  the  profit  of 
royalty.  The  people,  already  remarkable  for  the  prudence 
and  determination  with  which  they  defended  their  resources 
and  treasures,  surrendered  them  at  that  period  to  their  mon 
archs,  without  foresight  or  measure.  It  was  in  the  reign  of 
Henry  V.  that  a  considerable  tax,  consisting  of  custom-house 
duties,  was  granted  to  the  king  for  his  lifetime,  almost  at  the 
beginning  of  his  reign.  The  foreign  war  was  scarcely  ended, 
when  the  civil  war,  which  had  already  broken  out,  was  car- 
vied  on ;  the  houses  of  York  and  Lancaster  disputed  the 
throne.  When  at  length  these  sanguinary  struggles  were 
brought  to  an  end,  the  English  nobility  were  ruined,  diminish- 
ed in  number,  and  no  longer  able  to  preserve  the  power  which 
diey  had  previously  exercised.  The  coalition  of  the  great 
barons  was  no  longer  able  to  govern  the  throne.  The  Tudors 
( ascended  it ;  and  with  Henry  VII. ,  in  1485,  begins  the  era 
\  >f  political  centralization,  the  triumph  of  royalty 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN      IUROF1  237 

Monarchy  did  not  establish  itself  in  Italy,  at  least  unde  y-^% 
that  name  ;  but  this  made  lit ilt*  (inference  as  to  tho  result.     IK      / 
was  in  the  fifteenth  century  that  the  fall  of  the  Italian  repubj 
lies  took  place.     Even  where  the  name   was  retained,  the  . 
power  became  concentrated  in  the  hands  of  one,  or  of  a  few 
families.    T tie  spirit  of  republicanism  was  extinguished.    In 
the  north  of  Ualy,  almost  all  the  Lombaid  republics  merged 
in  the  Dutchy  oi  Milan.     In  1434,  Florence  fell  under  the 
dominion  of  the  Medicis.     In  1464,  Genoa  became  subject  to 
Milan.     The  greater  part  of  tho  republics,  great  and  small, 
yielded  to  the  power  of  sovereign  houses  ;  and  soon  after 
wards  began  the  pretensions  of  foreign  sovereigns  to  the  do- 
minion of  the  north  and  south  of  Italy  ;  to  the  Milanese  and 
kingdom  of  Naples. 


Indeed,  to  whatever  country  of  Europe  we  cast  our  eyes,\ 
whatever  portion  of  its  history  we  consider,  whether  it  relates 
to  the  nations  themselves  or  their  governments,  to  their  terri- 
loriee  or  their  institutions,  we  everywhere  see  the  old  ele«y 
merits,  the  old  forms  of  society,  disappearing.     Those  liber- 
ties which  were  founded  on  tradition  were  lost ;  new  powers 
arose,  more  regular  and  concentrated  than  those  which  pre- 
viously existed.     There  is  something  deeply  melancholy  in^\ 
this  view  of  the  fall  of  the  ancient  liberties  of  Europe.    Even  ^ 
in  its  own  time  it  inspired  feelings  of  the  utmost  bitterness. 
In  France,  in  Germany,  and  above  all,  in  Italy,  the  patriots\ 
of  the   fifteenth  century  resisted  with  ardor,  and  lamented  | 
with  despair,  that  revolution  which  everywhere  produced  the 
rise  of  what  they  were  entitled  to  call  despotism.     We  musi 
admire  their  courage  and  feel  for  their  sorrow ;  but  at  tho 
same  time  we  must  be  aware  that  this  revolution  was  not  only 
inevitable,  but  useful.     The  primitive  system  of  Europe — the 
old  feudal  and  municipal  liberties — had  failed  in  the  organiza- 
tion of  a  general  society.     Security  and  progress  are  essen-^) 
tial  to  social  existence.     Every  system  which  does  not  pro«> 
vide  for  present  order,  and  progressive  advancement  for  the/ 
future,  is  vicious,  and  speedily  abandoned.     And  this  was 
the  fate  of  the  old  political  forms  of  society,  of  the  ancient 
liberties  of  Europe  in  the  fifteenth  century.     They  could  not 
give  to  society  either  security  or  progress      These  objects 
naturally  became  sought  for  elsewhere ;  to  obtain  them,  re- 
course was  had  to  other  principles  and  other  means  :  and  this 


'• '^.-V,. 


288  GENERAL    HISTORY    UP 

is  the  import  of  all  the  facts  to  which  I  have  just  called  your 
attention. 

To  this  same  period  may  be  assigned  another  circumstance 
which  has  had  a  great  influence  on  the  political  history  of 
Europe.  It  was  in  the  fifteenth  century  that  the  relations  of 
governments  with  each  other  began  to  be  frequent,  regular, 
and  permanent.  Now,  for  the  first  time,  became  formed  those 
great  combinations  by  means  of  alliance,  for  peaceful  as  well 
as  warlike  objects,  which,  at  a  later  period,  gave  rise  to  the 
eystem  of  the  balance  of  power.  European  diplomacy  origi- 
nated in  the  fifteenth  century.  In  fact  you  may  see,  towards 
its  close,  the  principal  powers  of  the  continent  of  Europe,  the 
Popes,  the  Dirkes  of  Milan,  the  Venetians,  the  German  Em- 
perors, and  the  Kings  of  .France  and  Spain,  entering  into  a 
closer  correspondence  with  each  other  than  had  hitherto  ex- 
isted ;  negotiating,  combining,  and  balancing  their  various  in- 
terests. Thus  at  the  very  time  when  Charles  VIII.  set  on 
foot  his  expedition  to  conquer  the  kingdom  of  Naples,  a  great 
league  was  formed  against  him,  between  Spain,  the  Pope,  and 
the  Venetians.  The  league  of  Cambray  was  formed  some 
years  later  (in  1508),  against  the  Venetians.  The  holy  league 
directed  against  Louis  XII.  succeeded,  in  1511,  to  the  league 
of  Cambray.  All  these  combinations  had  their  rise  in  Italian 
policy ;  in  the  desire  of  different  sovereigns  to  possess  its 
territory ;  and  in  the  fear  lest  any  of  them,  by  obtaining  an 
exclusive  possession,  should  acquire  an  excessive  preponde- 
rance. This  new  order  of  things  was  very  favorable  to  the 
(^  career  of  monarchy.  On  the  one  hand,  it  belongs  to  the  very 
nature  of  the  external  relations  of  states  that  they  can  be  con- 
ducted only  By  a  single  person,  or  by  a  very  small  number, 
and  that  they  require  a  certain  degree  of  secrecy :  on  the  other 
hand,  the  people  were  so  little  enlightened  that  the  conse- 
quences of  a  combination  of  this  kind  quite  escaped  them. 
As  it  had  no  direct  bearing  on  their  individual  or  domestic 
life,  they  troubled  themselves  little  about  it ;  and,  as  usual, 
left  such  transactions  to  the  discretion  of  the  central  govern- 
,  merit.  Thus  diplomacy,  in  its  very  birth,  fell  into  the  hands 
of  kings  ;  and  the  opinion,  that  it  belongs  to  them  exclusive- 
ly ;  that  the  nation,  even  when  free,  and  possessed  of  the 
light  of  voting  its  own  taxes,  and  interfering  in  the  manage- 
ment of  its  domestic  affairs,  has  no  right  to  intermeddle  in 
foreign  matters  ; — this  opinio/ ,  I  say,  became  established  in 


CIVILIZATION    \S    MODKRN     EUROIT. 

all  parts  of  Europ  ttfod  principle,  a  maxim  of  com- 

mon law.  Look  into  the  history  of  England  in  the  sixteenth 
and  seventeenth  centuries  ;  and  you  will  observe  the  great  in- 
Huoncc  of  that  opinion,  and  the  obstacles  it  presented  to  the 
liberties  of  England  in  the  reigns  of  Elizabeth,  James  I.,  and 
Charles  I.  It  is  always  under  the  sanction  of  the  principle, 
that  peace  and  war,  commercial  relations,  and  all  foreign 
■flairs,  belong  to  the  royal  prerogative,  that  absolute  power 
defends  itself  against  the  rights  of  the  country.  The  people 
are  remarkably  timid  in  disputing  this  portion  of  the  preroga- 
tive ;  and  their  timidity  has  cost  them  the  dearer,  for  this 
reason,  that,  from  the  commencement  of  the  period  into  which 
we  are  now  entering  (that  is  to  say,  the  sixteenth  century), 
the  history  of  Europe  is  essentially  diplomatic.  Fmvnearly 
three  centuries,  foreign  relations  form  the  most  important  part 
of  history.  The  domestic  affairs  of  countries  began  to  be 
regularly  conducted  ;  the  internal  government,  on  the  Con- 
tinent at  least,  no  longer  produced  any  violent  convulsions, 
and  no  longer  kept  the  public  mind  in  a  state  of  agitation  and 
excitement.  Foreign  relations,  wars,  treaties,  alliances,  alone 
occupy  the  attention  and  fill  the  page  of  history  ;  so  that  we 
iind  the  destinies  of  nations  abandoned  in  a  great  measure  to 
the  royal  prerogative,  to  the  central  power  of  the  state. 

It  could  scarcely  have  happened  otherwise.  Civilization  \ 
must  have  made  great  progress,  intelligence  and*  political  J 
habits  must  be  widely  diffused,  before  the  public  can  interfere  / 
with  advantage  in  matters  of  this  kind.  From  the  sixteenth 
to  the  eighteenth  century,  the  people  were  far  from  being 
sufficiently  advanced  to  do  so.  Observe  what  occurred  in 
England,  under  James  I.,  at  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  His  son-in-law,  the  Elector  Palatine,  who  had  been 
elected  king  of  Bohemia,  had  lost  his  crown,  and  had  even 
been  stripped  of  his  hereditary  dominions,  the  Palatinate. 
Protestantism  everywhere  espoused  his  cause ;  and,  on  this 
ground,  England  took  a  warm  interest  in  it.  There  was  a 
great  manifestation  of  public  opinion  in  order  to  force  James 
to  take  the  part  of  his  son-in-law,  and  obtain  for  him  the  res- 
toration of  the  Palatinate.  Parliament  insisted  violently  for 
war,  promising  ample  means  to  carry  it  on.  James  was  in- 
different on  the  subject ;  he  made  several  attempts  to  nego- 
tiate, and  sent  some  troops  to  Germany ;  he  then  told  parlia- 
ment that  he  required  £900,000  sterling,  to  carry  on  the  war 
vith  any  chance  of  success.     It   is  not  said,  and  indeed  it 


240  GENERAL    HISTORY    OP 

does  not  appear,  that  his  estimate  was  exaggerated.  But  par- 
liament shrunk  back  with  astonishment  and  terror  at  the  sound 
of  such  a  sum,  and  could  hardly  be  prevailed  upon  to  vote 
j£70,000  sterling,  to  reinstate  a  prince,  and  re-conquer  a 
country  three  hundred  leagues  distant  from  England.  Such 
were  the  ignorance  and  poHtical  incapacity  of  the  public  in 
affairs  of  this  nature  ;  they  acted  without  any  knowledge  of 
facts,  or  any  consideration  of  consequences.  How  then  could 
they  be  capable  of  interfering  in  a  regular  and  effectual  man- 
ner? This  is  the  cause  which  principally  contributed  to 
make  foreign  relations  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  central  pow- 
er ;  no  other  was  in  a  condition  to  conduct  them,  I  shall  not 
say  for  the  public  benefit,  which  was  very  far  from  being 
always  consulted,  but  with  any  thing  like  consistency  and 
good  sense. 

(  It  may  be  seen,  then,  that  in  whatever  point  of  view  we 
regard  the  political  history  of  Europe  at  this  period — whether 
we  look  upon  the  internal  condition  of  different  nations,  or 
upon  their  relation  with  each  other — whether  we  consider  the 
means  of  warfare,  the  administration  of  justice,  or  the  levying 
of  taxes,  we  find  them  pervaded  by  the  same  character  ;  we 
see  everywhere  the  same  tendency  to  centralization,  to  unity, 
to  the  formation  and  preponderance  of  general  interests  and 
public  powers.  This  was  the  hidden  working  of  the  fifteentt 
century,  which,  at  the  period  we  are  speaking  of,  had  not  yet 
produced  any  very  apparent  result,  or  any  actual  revolution 
in  society,  but  was  preparing  all  those  consequences  which 
afterwards  took  place. 


I  shall  now  bring  before  you  a  class  of  facts  of  a  different 
nature  ;  moral  facts,  such  as  stand  in  relation  to  the  develop- 
ment of  the  human  mind  and  the  formation  of  general  ideas. 
In  these  again  we  shall  discover  the  same  phenomena,  and 
arrive  at  the  same  result. 

I  shall  begin  with  an  order  of  facts  which  has  often  engaged 

our  attention,  and  under  the  most  various  forms,  has   always 

held  an  important  place  in  the  history  of  Europe — the  facts 

relative  to  the  Church.     Down  to  the  fifteenth  century,  the 

/only  general  ideas  which  had  a  powerful  influence  on  the 

(masses  were  those  connected  with  religion.     The  Church 


A\ll 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    BUROP1  241 

lone  was  invested  with  the  power  of  regulating,  promulgal 
and  prescribing  them.     Attempts,  it  is  true,  at  independ* 
ence,  and  even  at  separation,  were  frequently  made;  and  the 

Church  had  much  to  do  to  overcome  them.     Down  to  thia 
period,  however,  she  had  been  successful.     Creeds  rejectedN 
by  the  Church  had  never  taken  any  general  or  permanent  j 
hold  on  the  minds  of  the   people :  even  the  Albigenses  hady 
lieen  repressed.     Dissension  and  strife  were  incessant  in  the) 
Church,  but  without  any  decisive  and  striking  result.     The 
fifteenth  century  opened  with  the  appearance  of  a  different/  ^..j. 
Stats  of  things.     New  ideas,  and  a  public  and  avowed  desirer 
of  change  and  reformation,  began  to  agitate  the  Church  her-/»  ^r""1 
self.     The  end  of  the  fourteenth  and  beginning  of  the  fifteentrV 
century  were  marked  by  the  great  schism  of  the  west,  result- \ 
ing  from  the  removal  of  the  papal  chair  to  Avignon,  and  the  \ 
creation  of  two  popes,  one  at  Avignon,  and  the  other  at  Rome,  j 
The  contest  between  these  two  papacies  is  wJKiLu*L-£allfi.d/ 
the  great  schisnxof  the  west7    Itoegan  in   V61S7   In  1409, 
the  Council  of  Pisa  endeavored  to  put  an  end  to  it  by  depos- 
ing the  two  rival  popes  and  electing  another.     But  instead  of 
ending  the  schism,  this  step  only  rendered  it  more  violent. 

There  were  now  three  popes  instead  of  two  ;  and  disorders 
and  abuses  went  on  increasing.  In  1414,  the  Council  of\ 
Constance  assembled,  convoked  by  desire  of  the  EmperorJ  —  - 
Sigismund.  This  council  set  about  a  matter  of  far  more  inA 
portance  than  the  nomination  of  a  new  pope  ;  it  undertook  the  j 
reformation  of  the  Church.  It  began  by  proclaiming  the  in- 
dissolubility of  the  universal  council,  and  its  superiority  over 
the  papal  power.  It  endeavored  to  establish  these  principles 
in  the  Church,  and  to  reform  the  abuses  which  had  crept  into 
it,  particularly  the  exactions  by  which  the  court  of  Rome  ob- 
tained money.  To  accomplish  this  object  the  council  appoint- 
ed what  we  should  call  a  commission  of  inquiry,  in  other 
words,  a  Reform  CoLege,  composed  of  deputies  to  the  coun- 
cil, chosen  in  the  different  Christian  nations.  This  college 
was  directed  to  inquire  into  the  abuses  which  polluted  the 
Church,  and  into  the  means  of  remedying  them,  and  to  make 
b  report  to  the  council,  in  order  that  it  might  deliberate  on  the 
proceedings  to  be  adopted.  But  while  the  council  was  thus 
engaged,  the  question  was  started,  whether  it  could  proceed 
to  the  reform  of  abuses  without  the  visible  concurrence  of  the 
head  of  the  Church,  without  the  sanction  of  the  pope.  It.  was 
carried  in  the  negative  through  the  influence  of  the   Remap 

11 


242  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

party,  supported  by  some  well-meaning  but  timid  individuals 
The  council  elected  a  new  pope,  Martin  V.,  in  1417.  The 
pope  was  instructed  to  present,  on  his  part,  a  plan  for  the  re- 
form of  the  Cnurch.  This  plan  was  rejected,  and  the  council 
C separated.  In  1431,  a  new  council  assembled  at  Bale  with 
the  same  design.  It  resumed  and  continued  the  reforming 
labors  of  the  Council  of  Constance,  but  with  no  better  success 
Schism  broke  out  in  this  assembly  as  it  had  done  in  Christen- 

(dom.  The  pope  removed  the  council  to  Ferrara,  at.d  after- 
wards to  Florence.  A  portion  of  the  prelates  refused  to  obey 
the  pope,  and  remained  at  Bale ;  and,  as  there  had  been 
formerly  two  popes,  so  now  there  were  two  councils.  That 
of  Bale  continued  its  projects  of  reform  ;  named  as  its  pope, 
Felix  V.  ;  some  time  afterward  removed  to  Lausanne  ;  and 
dissolved  itself  in  1449,  without  having  effected  anything. 

In  this  manner  papacy  gained  the  day,  remained  in  posses- 
sion of  the  field  of  battle,  and  of  the  government  of  the  Church. 
The  council  could  not  accomplish  that  which  it  had  set  about ; 
but  it  did  something  else  which  it  had  not  thought  of,  and 
which  survived  its  dissolution.  Just  at  the  time  the  Council 
of  Bale  failed  in  its  attempts  at  reform,  sovereigns  were 
adopting  the  ideas  which  it  had  proclaimed,  and  some  of  the 
institutions  which  it  had  suggested.  In  France,  and  with  the 
lecrees  of  the  Council  of  Bale,  Charles  VII.  formed  the  prag- 
matic sanction,  which  he  proclaimed  at  Bourges  in  1438  ;  it 
authorized  the  election  of  bishops,  the  suppression  of  annates 
(or  first-fruits,)  and  the  reform  of  the  principal  abuses  introduc- 
ed into  the  Church.  The  pragmatic  sanction  was  declared  in 
France  to  be  a  law  of  the  state.  In  Germany,  the  Diet  of  May- 
ence  adopted  it  in  1439,  and  also  made  it  a  law  of  the  German 
empire.  What  spiritual  power  had  tried  without  success,  tem- 
j  poral  power  seemed  determined  to  accomplish. 

But  the  projects  of  the  reformers  met  with  a  new  reverse 
s  of  fortune.  As  the  council  had  failed,  so  did  the  pragmatic 
sanction.  It  perished  very  soon  in  Germany.  It  was  aban- 
doned by  the  Diet  in  1448,  in  virtue  of  a  negotiation  with 
Nicholas  V.  In  1516,  Francis  I.  abandoned  it  also,  substitut- 
{ hig  for  it  his  concordat  with  Leo  X.  The  reform  attempted 
by  princes  did  not  succeed  better  than  that  set  or,  foot  by  the 
clergy.  But  we  must  rot  conclude  that  it  was  entirely  thrown 
sway.     In  like  manner  as  the  council  had  done  things  which 


CIVILIZATION*     IN    HOD]  l'K.  248 

survived  it,  so  the  pragmatic  sanction  had  effects  which  sur 

vived  it  also,  ami  will  he  found  to  make  an  important  figUT' 
in  modern  history.  The  principles  of  the  Council  of  BalcN, 
were  strong  and  fruitful.  Men  of  superior  minds,  and  of  en 
argetic  characters,  had  adopted  and  maintained  them.  John 
of  Paris,  D'Ailly,  Gerson,  and  many  distinguished  men  of  the 
fifteenth  century,  had  devoted  themselves  to  their  defence.  It\ 
was  in  vain  that  the  council  was  dissolved  ;  it  was  in  vain 
lhat  the  pragmatic  sanction  was  abandoned  ;  their  general 
doctrines  respecting  the  government  of  the  Church,  and  the 
reforms  which  were  necessary,  took  root  in  France.  They 
were  spread  abroad,  found  their  way  into  parliaments,  took  a\ 
strong  hold  of  the  public  mind,  and  gave  birth  first  to  the 
Jansenists,  and  then  to  the  Gallicans.  This  entire  series  of 
maxims  and  efforts  tending  to  the  reform  of  the  Church,  which 
began  with  the  Council  of  Constance,  and  terminated  in  the 
four  propositions  of  Bossuet,  emanated  from  the  same  source, 
and  was  directed  to  the  same  object.27  It  is  the  same  fact 
which  has  undergone  successive  transformations.  Notwith- 
standing the  failure  of  the  legal  attempts  at  reform  made  in 
the  fifteenth  century,  they  indirectly  had  an  immense  influence 
upon  the  progress  of  civilization ;  and  must  not  be  left  out  of 
its  history. 

The  councils  were  right  in  trying  for  a  legal  reform,  for  it  \ 
was  the  only  way  to  prevent  a  revolution.    Nearly  at  the  time 
when  the  Council  of  Pisa  was  endeavoring  to  put  an  end  to\ 
the  great  western  schism,  and  the  Council  of  Constance  to 
reform  the  Church,  the  first  attempts  at  popular  religious  re- 
form broke  out  in  Bohemia.     The  preaching  of  John  Huss, 
and  his  progress  as  a  reformer,  commenced  in  1404,  when  he 
began  to  teach  at  Prague.     Here,  then,  we  have  two  reforms  \ 
going  on  side  by  side ;  the  one  in  the  very  bosom  of  the  / 

27  These  propositions,  drawn  up  by  Bossuet,  were  decreed  by  a 
convocation  of  the  French  clergy  assembled  by  Louis  XIV.,  io 
1682,  and  are  called  the  Quatuor  Propositions  Cleri  Gallicani. 
They  declare  that  power  and  authority  are  given  by  God  to  the 
Vicar  of  Christ  in  spiritual,  but  not  in  temporal  things;  that  tin? 
power  is  limited  and  restrained  by  the  laws  of  the  Church  and 
general  councils;  and  that  the  sentence  of  the  pope  is  not  on 
changeable  unless  sanctioned  by  the  Church  Catholic.  These 
decrees  are  the  foundation  ot  the  independence  of  the  Gallicac 
Church 


244  GENERAL    HISTORY    01' 

Church, — attempted  by  the  ecclesiastical  aristocracy  itself, — 
cautious,  embarrassed,  and  timid  ;  the  other  originating  with- 
out the  Church,  and  directed  against  it, — violent,  passionate, 
and  impetuous.  A  contest  began  between  these  two  powers, 
/these  two  parties.  The  council  enticed  John  Huss  and  Je- 
/  rome  of  Prague  to  Constance,  and  condemned  them  to  the 
\  flames  as  heretics  and  revolutionists.  These  events  are  per 
fectly  intelligible  „o  us  now.  We  can  very  well  understand 
this  simultaneous  existence  of  separate  reforms,  one  under- 
taken by  governments,  the  other  by  the  people,  hostile  to  each 
other,  yet  springing  from  the  same  cause,  and  tending  to  the 
same  object,  and,  though  opposed  to  each  other,  finally  con- 
-  curring  in  the  same  result.  This  is  what  happened  in  the 
(^  fifteenth  century.  The  popular  reform  of  John  Huss  was 
stifled  for  the  moment ;  the  war  of  the  Hussites  broke  out  three 
or  four  years  after  the  death  of  their  master  ;  it  was  long  and 
violent,  but  at  last  the  empire  was  successful  in  subduing  it. 
The  failure  of  the  councils  in  the  work  of  reform,  their  not 
being  able  to  attain  the  object  they  were  aiming  at,  only  kept 
the  public  mind  in  a  state  of  fermentation.  The  spirit  of  re- 
form still  existed  ;  it  waited  but  for  an  opportunity  again  to 
break  out,  and  this  it  found  at  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth 
century.  Had  the  reform  undertaken  by  the  councils  been 
brought  to  any  good  issue,  perhaps  the  popular  reform  would 
have  been  prevented.  But  it  was  impossible  that  one  or  the 
other  of  them  should  not  succeed,  for  their  coincidence  shows 
their  necessity. 

Such,  then,  is  the  state,  in  respect  to  religious  creeds,  in 
which  Europe  was  left  by  the  fifteenth  century :  an  aristocra- 
tic reform  attempted  without  success,  with  a  popular  suppress 
ed  reform  begun,  but  still  ready  to  break  out  anew. 

/~It  was  not  solely  to  religious  creeds  that  the  human  mind 

{ was  directed,  and  busied  itself  about  at  this  period.     It  was 

H-^*^  in  the  course  of  the  fourteenth  century,  as  you  all  know,  thai 

...Greek  and  Roman  antiquity  was  (if  I  may  use  the  expres 

;  sion)  restored  to  Europe.    You  know  with  what  ardor  Dante, 

^     -  I  Petrarch,  Boccacio,  and  all  their  contemporaries,  sought  for 

:  Greek  and  Latin  manuscripts,  published   them,  and  spread 

them  abroad ;  and  what  general  joy  was  produced   by  the 

smallest  discovery  in  this  branch  of  learning.     It  was  in  the 

midst  of  this   excitement  that  the  classical  school  took  its 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    BUIOFK, 

i  school  which  has  performed  a  much  more  important/ 
part  in  the  derelopment  of  the  human  mind  than  has  general-) 
ly  been  ascribed  to  it.  But  we  must  bo  cautious  of  attaching 
to  this  term,  classical  school,  the  meaning  given  to  it  at  pro- 
Bent  It  had  to  do,  in  those  days,  with  matters  very  different 
from  literary  systems  and  disputes.  The  classical  school  of\ 
that  period  inspired  its  disciples  with  admiration,  not  only  foil 
the  writings  of  Virgil  and  Homer,  but  for  the  entire  frame  of  I 
ancient  society,  for  its  institutions,  its  opinions,  its  philoso/ 
phy,  as  well  as  its  literature.  Antiquity,  it  must  be  allowed, 
whether  as  regards  politics,  philosophy,  or  literature,  was 
greatly  superior  to  the  Europe  of  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth 
centuries.  It  is  not  surprising,  therefore,  that  it  snould  have 
exercised  so  great  an  iniluence  ;  that  lofty,  vigorous,  elegant, 
and  fastidious  minds  should  have  been  disgusted  with  the 
coarse  manners,  the  confused  ideas,  the  barbarous  modes  of 
their  own  time,  and  should  have  devoted  themselves  with  en- 
thusiasm, and  almost  with  veneration,  to  the  study  of  a  state 
of  society,  at  once  more  regular  and  more  perfect  than  their 
own.  Thus  was  formed  that  school  of  bold  thinkers  which 
appeared  at  the  commencement  of  the  fifteenth  century,  and 
in  which  prelates,  jurists,  and  men  of  learning  were  united 
by  common  sentiments  and  common  pursuits. 

In  the  midst  of  this  movement  happened  the  taking  of  Con-W^/  >  \ 
stantinople  by  the  Turks,  1453,  the  fall  of  the  Eastern  ein-| 
pire,  and  the  influx  of  the  fugitive  Greeks  into  Italy.  These 
brought  with  them  a  greater  knowledge  of  antiquity,  nume- 
rous manuscripts,  and  a  thousand  new  means  of  studying  the 
civilization  of  the  ancients.  You  may  easily  imagine  how 
this  must  have  redoubled  the  admiration  and  ardor  of  the 
classic  school.  This  waa  the  most  brilliant  period  of  ihc\ 
Church,  especially  in  Italy,  not  in  respect  of  political  power, 
but  of  wealth  and  luxury.  The  Church  gave  herself  up  to 
all  the  pleasures  of  an  indolent,  elegant,  licentious  civiliza- 
tion ;  to  a  taste  for  letters,  the  arts,  and  social  and  physical 
enjoyments.  Look  at  the  way  in  which  the  men  who  played 
the  greatest  political  and  literary  parts  at  that  period  passed 
their  lives ;  Cardinal  Bembo,  for  example  ;  and  you  will  be 
surprised  by  the  mixture  which  it  exhibits  of  luxurious  effemi- 
nacy and  intellectual  culture,  of  enervated  manners  and  men 
tal  vigor.  In  surveying  this  period,  indeed,  when  we  look  at 
the  state  of  opinions  and  of  social  relations,  we  might  imagine 
ourselves  living  anong  the  French  of  the  eighteenth  century 


246  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

There  was  the  same  desire  for  the  progress  of  intelligence, 
and  for  the  acquirement  of  new  ideas ;  the  same  taste  for  an 
agreeable  and  easy  life,  the  same  luxury,  the  same  licentious- 
ness ;  there  was  the  same  want  of  political  energy  and  of 
moral  principles,  combined,  with  singular  sincerity  and  activity 

inf  mind.  The  literati  of  the  fifteenth  century  stood  in  the 
same  relation  to  the  prelates  of  the  Church  as  the  men  of 
letters  and  philosophers  of  the  eighteenth  did  to  the  nobility. 
They  had  the  same  opinions  and  manners,  lived  agreeably 
together,  and  gave  themselves  no  uneasiness  about  the  storms? 
that  were  brewing  round  them.  The  prelates  of  the  fifteenth 
(century,  and  Cardinal  Bembo  among  the  re3t,  no  more  foresaw 
Luther  and  Calvin,  than  the  courtiers  of  Louis  XIV.  foresaw 
the  French  revolution.  The  analogy  between  the  two  cases 
is  striking  and  instructive. 

IWe  observe,  then,  three  great  facts  in  the  moral  order  of 
society  at  this  period  ;  on  one  hand,  an  ecclesiastical  reform 
attempted  by  the  Church  itself;  on  another  a  popular,  religious 
reform ;  and  lastly,  an  intellectual  revolution,  which  formed  a 
(school  of  free-thinkers ;  and  all  these  transformations  were 
prepared  in  the  midst  of  the  greatest  political  change  that  ha? 
ever  taken,  place  in  Europe,  in  the  midst  of  the  process  of  the 
centralization  of  nations  and  governments. 
<f 

^«*v^V"    But  this  is  not  all.     The  period  in  question  was  also  one 

"f  of  the  most  remarkable  for  the  display  of  physical  activity 

\ among  men.     It  was  a  period  of  voyages,  travels,  enterprises, 

^discoveries,  and  inventions  of  every  kind.     It  was  the  time  of 

the  great  Portuguese  expedition  along  the  coast  of  Africa ;  of 

the  discovery  of  the  new  passage  to  India  by  the  Cape  of 

Good  Hope,  by  Vasco  de  Gama ;  of  the  discovery  of  America, 

by  Christopher  Columbus ;   of  the  wonderful   extension  of 

European  commerce.    A  thousand  new  inventions  started  up ; 

others  already  known,  but  confined  within  a  narrow  sphere, 

became  popular  and  in  general  use.    Gunpowder  changed  thej 

system  of  war  ;  the  compass  changed  the  system  of  naviga  < 

/-tion.     Painting  in  oil  was  invented,  and  filled  Europe  with 

(_  masterpieces  of  art.     Engraving  on  copper,  invented  in  1406, 

multiplied  and  diffused  them.     Paper  made  of  linen  became 

.common.     Finally,  between   1436    and  1452,  was  invented 

'printing; — printing,  the  theme  of  g?  mmy  declamations  and 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  24-7 

common-places,  but  to  whoso  merits  and  effect  no  common*! 
p'aces  or  declamations  will  ever  bo  able  to  do  justice. 

Prom  nil  this,  some  idea  may  be  formed  of  the  greatness 
and  activity  of  the  fifteenth  century  ;  a  greatness  which,  at  the 
lime,  was  not  very  apparent ;  an  activity  of  which  the  results 
Aid  not  immediately  take  place.     Violent  reforms  seemed  to 
fall  ;  governments  acquired  stability.     It   might   have    been 
supposed  that  society  was  now  about  to  enjoy  the  benefits  of 
better  order,  and  more  rapid  progress.     The  mighty  revoluA 
lions  of  the  sixteenth  century  were  at  nand  ;  the  fifteenth  OCD-  ] 
tury  prepared  them. — Thoy  shall  be  the  subject  of  the  follow-/ 
ing  lecture.  ' 


LECTUIIE  XII 


THE    REFORMATION. 


t 


I  have  often  referred  to  and  lamented  the  disorder,  the 
cuiaotic  situation  of  European  society  ;  I  have  complained  of 
the  difficulty  of  comprehending  and  describing  a  state  of  so- 
ciety so  loose,  so  scattered,  and  incoherent ;  and  I  have  kept 
you  waiting  with  impatience  for  the  period  of  general  inter- 
ests, order,  and  social  union.  This  period  we  have  now 
reached  ;  but,  in  treating  of  it,  we  encounter  a  difficulty  of 
another  kind.  Hitherto,  we  have  found  it  difficult  to  connect 
historical  facts  one  with  another,  to  class  them  together,  to 
seize  their  common  features,  to  discover  their  points  of  re- 
semblance. The  case  is  different  in  modern  Europe  ;  all  the 
elements,  all  the  incidents  of  social  life  modify,  act  and  re-act 
upon  each  other  ;  the  mutual  relations  of  men  are  much  more 
numerous  and  complicated ;  so  also  are  their  relations  with 
the  government  and  the  state,  the  relations  of  states  with 
each  other,  and  all  the  ideas  and  operations  of  the  human 
mind.  In  the  periods  through  which  we  have  already  travel- 
led, we  have  found  a  great  number  of  facts  which  were  insu- 
lated, foreign  to  each  other,  and  without  any  reciprocal  in- 
fluence. From  this  time,  however,  we  find  nothing  insulated ; 
all  things  press  upon  one  another,  and  become  modified  and 
changed  by  their  mutual  contact  and  friction.  What,  let  me 
ask,  can  be  more  difficult  than  to  seize  the  real  point  of  unity 
in  the  midst  of  such  diversity,  to  determine  the  direction  of 
such  a  widely  spread  and  complicated  movement,  to  sum  up 
this  prodigious  number  of  various  and  closely  connected  ele- 
ments, to  point  out  at  last  the  general  and  leading  fact  which 
is  the  sum  of  a  long  series  of  facts  ;  which  characterizes  an 
era,  and  is  the  true  expression  of  its  influence,  and  of  the  par* 
it  has  performed  in  the  history  of  civilization  ?  You  will  be 
able  to  measure  at  a  glance  the  extent  of  this  difficulty,  in  the 
great  event  which  is  now  to  engage  our  attention. 

Tu  the  twelfth  century  we  mef,  with  an  event  which  wa? 


.     IN     MODI-UN  249 

religious  in  its  origin  if  not  in  its  nature;  I  mean  the  Cru-) 
sades.  Notwithstanding  the  greatness  oc  this  event,  its  long 
Juration,  and  the  variety  of  incidents  which  it  brou»n' 
about,  it  was  easy  enough  for  us  to  discover  its  general  char 
acter,  and  to  determine  its  influence  with  some  degree  of  pre 
cision. 


We  have  now  to  consider  tho  religious  revolution  of  ihe  -^ 
sixteenth  century,  which  is  commonly  called  TBI  REFORMA- 
TION. Let  me  be  permitted  to  say  in  passing,  that  I  shall  use 
this  word  reformation  as  a  simple  ordinary  term,  synonymous 
with  religious  revolution,  and  without  attaching  it  to  any 
opinion.  You  must,  I  am  sure,  foresee  at  once,  how  difficult 
it  is  to  discover  the  real  character  of  this  great  crisis,  and  to 
explain  in  a  general  manner  what  has  been  its  nature  and  its 

eliectS. 

The  period  of  our  inquiry  must  extend  from  the  beginning 
of  the  sixteenth  to  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century  ;  foi 
this  period  embraces,  so  to  speak,  the  life  of  this  event  from 
its  birth  to  its  termination.  All  historical  events  have  in  some 
sort  a  determinate  career.  Their  consequences  are  prclonged 
to  infinity ;  they  are  connected  with  all  the  past  and  all  tho 
future  ;  but  it  is  not  the  less  true,  on  this  account,  that  they 
have  a  definite  and  limited  existence  ;  that  they  have  their 
origin  and  their  increase,  occupy  with  their  development  a 
certain  portion*  of  time,  and  then  diminish  and  disappear  from 
the  scene,  to  make  way  for  some  new  event  which  runs  y 
similar  course 

The  precise  date  which  may  be  assigned  to  the  Reforma)  /s-p 
tion  is  not  of  much  importance.     We  may  take  the  year  1520'  '  *  ^ 
when  Luther  publicly  burnt  at  Wittemberg  the  bull  of  Leo  X., 
containing  his    condemnation,  and  thus  formally  separated     £ 
himself  from  the  Romish  Church.     The  interval  between  this 
period  and  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century,  the  year 
1648,  when  the  treaty  of  Westphalia  was  concluded,  compre-  \ 

hends  the  life  of  the  Reformation.     That  this  is  the  case,  may 
bo  thus  proved.     The  first  and  greatest  effect  of  the  religious  ] 
revolution  was  to  create  in  Europe  two  classes  of  states,  the 
Catholic  and  the  Protestant,  to  set  them  against  each  other 
md  force  them  into  hostilities.     With  many  vicissitudes,  tho 


<i 


>50  ■      GENERAL    HISTORY     OF 

struggle  between  these  two  parties  lasted  from  the  beginning 
of  the  sixteenth  century  to  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth.  It 
was  by  the  treaty  of  Westphalia,  in  1648,  that  the  Catholic 
and  Protestant  states  reciprocally  acknowledged  each  other, 
and  engaged  to  live  in  amity  and  peace,  without  regard  to 
difference  of  religion.  After  this,-  from  1648,  difference  of 
religion  ceased  to  be  the  leading  principle  of  the  classification 
of  states,  of  their  external  policy,  their  relations  and  alliances. 
Down  to  that  time,  notwithstanding  great  variations,  Europe 
was  essentially  divided  into  a  Catholic  league  and  a  Protes- 
tant league.  After  the  treaty  of  Westphalia  this  distinction 
disappeared  ;  and  alliances  or  divisions  among  states  took 
place  from  considerations  altogether  foreign  to  religious  belief. 
At  this  point,  therefore,  the  preponderance,  or,  in  other  words, 
the  career  of  the  Reformation  came  to  an  end,  although  its 
consequences,  instead  of  decreasing,  continued  to  develop 
themselves. 


Let  us  now  take  a  rapid  survey  of  this  career,  and  merely 
mentioning  names  and  events,  point  out  its  course.  You  will 
see  from  this  simple  indication,  from  this  dry  and  incomplete 
outline,  what  must  be  the  difficulty  of  summing  up  a  series  of 
such  various  and  complicated  facts  into  one  general  fact ;  of 
determining  what  is  the  true  character  of  the  religious  revo- 
lution of  the  sixteenth  century,  and  of  assigning  to  it  its  true 
part  in  the  history  of  civilization. 

The  moment  in  which  the  Reformation  broke  out  is  remark- 
able for  its  political  importance.  It  was  in  the  midst  of  the 
great  struggle  between  Francis  and  Charles  V. — between 
France  and  Spain ;  a  struggle  at  first  for  the  possession  of 
Italy,  but  afterwards  for  the  German  empire,  and  finally  for 
preponderance  in  Europe.  It  was  the  moment  in  which  the 
house  of  Austria  elevated  itself  and  became  predominant  in 
Europe.  It  was  also  the  moment  in  which  England,  through 
Henry  VIII.,  interfered  in  continental  politics,  more  regu- 
larly, permanently  and  extensively  than  she  had  ever  done 
before. 

If  we  follow  the  course  of  the  sixteenth  century  in  France 
we  shall  find  i*  entirely  occupied  by  the  great  religious  wars 
between  Protestants  and  Catholics  ;  wars  which  became  the 


I  n  1LI/.AT10N    IN    MODERN    EURO!  251 

means  and  the  occasion  of  a  new  attempt  of  the  gieat  Loblm 
to  repossess  themselves  of  the  power  which  they  had  lost,  and 
to  obtain  an  ascendency  over  the  sovereign.  This  was  the 
political  moaning  of  the  religious  wars  of  France,  of  the 
League,  of  the  struggle  between  the  houses  of  Guise  and  Va 
lois, — a  struggle  which  was  put  an  end  to  by  the  accession 
of  Henry  IV. 

In  Spain,  the  revolution  of  the  United  Provinces  broke  ouN 
about  the  middle  of  the  reign  of  Philip  II.  The  inquisition  J 
on  one  hand,  and  civil  and  religious  liberty  on  the  other,  made 
these  provinces  the  theatre  of  war  under  the  names  of  the 
Duke  of  Alva  and  the  Prince  of  Orange.  Perseverance  and 
prudence  secured  the  triumph  of  liberty  in  Holland,  but  it 
perished  in  Spain,  where  absolute  power,  ecclesiastical  and 
civil,  reigned  without  control 

In  England,  the  circumstances  to  be  noted  are,  the  reigned 
of  Mary  and  Elizabeth  ;  the  struggle  of  Elizabeth,  as  head  of  J 
the  Protestant  interests,  against  Philip  II. ;  the  accession  of 
James  Stuart  to  the  throne  of  England  ;  and  the  rise  of  the 
great  dispute  between  the  monarchy  and  the  people. 

About  the  same  time  we  note  the  creation  of  new  powers  in 
the  north,  Sweden  was  raised  into  existence  by  Gustavus 
Vasa,  in  1523.  Prussia  was  created  by  the  secularization 
of  the  Teutonic  order.  The  northern  powers  assumed  a  place 
in  the  politics  of  Europe  which  they  had  not  occupied  before, 
and  the  importance  of  which  soon  afterwards  showed  itself 
in  the  thirty  years'  war. 

I  now  come  back  to  France,  to  note  the  reign  of  Louis 
XIII. ;  the  change  in  the  internal  administration  of  this  coun- 
try effected  by  Cardinal  Richelieu ;  the  relations  of  France 
with  Germany,  and  the  support  which  she  afforded  to  the 
Protestant  party.  In  Germany,  during  the  latter  part  of  the 
sixteenth  century,  there  was  the  war  with  the  Turks ;  in  the'N 
beginning  of  the  seventeenth,  the  thirty  years'  war,  the  greatest  J 
of  modern  events  in  eastern  Europe ;  Gustavus  Adolphus, 
Wallenstein,  Tilly,  the  Duke  of  Brunswick,  the  Duke  of 
Weimar,  are  the  greatest  names  which  Germany  at  this  time 
oould  boast  of. 

At  the  same  period,  in  France,  took  place  the  accession 


252  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

of  Louis  XI V.  and  the  commencement  of  iie  Frondo  ,  it: 
England  broke  out  the  great  revolution,  or,  as  it  is  sometimes 
improperly  called,  the  grand  rebellion,  which  dethroned 
Charles  I. 

In  this  survey,  I  have  only  glanced  at  the  most  prominent 
events  of  history,  events  which  everybody  has  heard  of;  you 
pee  their  number,  their  variety,  their  importance.  If  we  seek 
for  events  of  another  kind,  events  less  conspicuous  and  less 
distinguished  by  great  names,  we  shall  find  them  not  less 
abundant  during  this  period ;  a  period  remarkable  for  the 
great  changes  which  took  place  in  the  political  institutions  of 
almost  every  country  ;  the  period  in  which  pure  monarch} 
prevailed  in  most  of  the  great  states,  while  in  Holland  there 
arose  the  most  powerful  republic  in  Europe  ;  and  in  England 
constitutional  monarchy  achieved,  or  nearly  achieved,  a  final 
triumph.  Then,  in  the  Church,  it  was  during  this  period  that 
the  old  monastic  orders  lost  almost  all  their  political  power, 
and  were  replaced  by  a  new  order  of  a  different  character, 
and  whose  importance,  erroneously  perhaps,  is  considered 
\  much  superior  to  that  of  its  precursors, — I  mean  the  Jesuits. 
At  the  same  period  the  Council  of  Trent  obliterated  all  that 
remained  of  the  influence  of  the  Councils  of  Constance  and 
Bale,  and  secured  the  definitive  ascendency  uf  the  court  of 
Lome  in  ecclesiastical  affairs.  Leaving  the  Church,  and  tak- 
ing a  passing  glance  at  the  philosophy  of  the  age,  at  the  un- 
fettered career  of  the  human  mind,  we  observe  two  men, 
Bacon  and  Descartes,  the  authors  of  the  greatest  philosophi- 
cal revolution  which  the  modern  world  has  undergone,  the 
chiefs  of  the  two  schools  which  contended  for  supremacy.  It 
was  in  this  period  too  that  Italian  literature  shone  forth  in  its 
fullest  splendor,  while  that  of  France  and  England  was  still 
in  its  infancy.  Lastly,  it  was  in  this  period  that  the  colonial 
system  of  Europe  had  its  origin ;  that  great  colonies  were 
founded  ;  and  that  commercial  activity  and  enterprise  were 
carried  to  an  extent  never  before  known. 

Thus,  under  whatever  point  of  view  we  consider  this  era 
|  we  find  its  political,  ecclesiastical,  philosophical,  and  literary 
^events,  more  numerous,  varied,  and  important,  than  in  any  of 
the  preceding  ages.  The  activity  of  the  human  mind  dis- 
played itself  in  every  way  ;  in  the  relations  of  men  with  each 
other — in  their  relations  with  the  governing  powers — in  the 


/ 


N     IN     MODKRN     !  253 

tvi.it urns  of  slates,  and  in  tho  intellectual  labors  of  individuals.^ 
In  short,  it  was  the  ago  of  great  men  and  of  great  things.  J 
imong  the  great  events  of  this  period,  the  religious  rovo-' 
hit  ion  which  now  engages  our  attention  was  tho  greatest.     It 
was  the  leading  fact  of  the  period  ;  the  fact  which  gives  it 
its  name,  and  determines  its  character.     Among  the  many 
powerful  causes  which  have   produced   so   many  powerful 
effects,  the  Reformation  was  tho  most  powerful ;  it  was  that 
to  which  all  the  others  contributed  ;  that  which  has  modified, 
or  been  modified  by,  all  the  rest.     The  task  which  wo  have 
now  to  perform,  then,  is  to  review,  with  precision,  this  event ; 
to  examine  this  cause,  which,  in  a  period  of  the  greatest 
causes,  produced  the  greatest  effects — this  event,  which,  in 
this  period  of  great  events,  prevailed  over  all  the  rest. 

You  must,  at  once,  perceive  how  difficult  it  is  to  link  to- A 
gether  facts  so  diversified,  so  immense,  and  so  closely  con- 1 
nected,  into  one  great  historical  unity.     It  must,  however,  be  \ 
done ;  when  events  are  once  consummated,  when  they  have  J 
become  matter  of  history,  the  most  important  business  is  then  / 
to  be  attempted ;  that  which  man  most  seeks  for  are  generaW 
facts — the  linking  together  of  causes  and  effects.     This  is\ 
what  I  may  call  the  immortal  portion  of  history,  which  all 
generations  must  study,  in  order  to  understand  the  past  as  weU^/ 
as  the  present  time.  This  desire  after  generalization,  of  obtain- 
ing rational  results,  is  the  most  powerful  and  noblest  of  all 
our  intellectual  desires  ;  but  we  must  beware  of  being  satis- 
tied  with  hasty  and  incomplete  generalizations.     No  pleasure 
is  more  seducing  than  that  of  indulging  ourselves  in  determin- 
ing on  the  spot,  and  at  first  sight,  the  general  character  and 
permanent  results  of  an  era  or  an  event.     The  human  intel 
lect,  liko  the  human  will,  is  eager  to  be  in  action,  impatient 
of  obstacles,  and  desirous  of  coming  to  conclusions.     It  wil- 
lingly forgets   such   facts  as  impede  and  constrain  its  ope* 
rations ;  but  while  it  forgets,  it  cannot  destroy  them ;  the)' 
still  live  to  convict  it  of  error  at  some  after  period.     There  i? 
only  one  way  of  escaping  this  danger ;  it  is  by  a  resolute  and 
dogged  study  of  facts,  till  their  meaning  is  exhausted,  before 
attempting  to  generalize,  or  coming  to  conclusions  respecting 
their  effects.     Facts  are,  for  the  intellect,   what  the  rules 
of  morals  are  for  the  will.     The  mind  must  be  thoroughly  ac- 
)uainted  with  facts,  and  must  know  their  weight ;  and  it  is 
only  when  she  has  fulfilled  this  duty — when  she  has  com- 
pletely trave-sed,  in  every  direction,  the  ground  of  investiga- 


( 


254  GENERAL    HISTORY    07 

•ion  and  inquiry — that  she  is  permitted  to  spread  her  wings, 
and  take  her  flight  towards  that  higher  region,  whence  she 
may  survey  all  things  in  their  general  bearings  and  results 
If  ehe  endeavor  to  ascend  prematurely,  without  having  first 
acquired  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  territory  which  she  de- 
sires to  contemplate  from  above,  she  incurs  the  most  imminent 
risk  of  error  and  downfall.  As,  in  a  calculation  of  figures 
an  error  at  the  outset  leads  to  others,  ad  infinitum,  so,  in  his- 
tory, if  we  do  not,  in  the  first  instance,  take  every  fact  into 
account — if  we  allow  ourselves  to  indulge  in  a  spirit  of  pre- 
cipitate generalization — it  is  impossible  to  teli  how  far  we 
may  be  led  astray  from  the  truth. 

In  these  observations,  I  am,  in  some  measure,  putting  you 
on  your  guard  against  myself.  In  this  course  I  have  been 
able  to  do  little  more  than  make  some  attempts  at  generaliza- 
tion, and  take  some  general  views  of  facts  which  we  had  not 
studied  closely  and  together.  Being  now  arrived  at  a  period 
where  this  task  is  much  more  difficult,  and  the  chances  of 
error  greater  than  before,  I  think  it  necessary  to  make  you 
aware  of  the  danger,  and  warn  you  against  my  own  specula- 
tions. Having  done  so,  I  shall  now  continue  them,  and  treat 
the  Reformation  in  the  same  way  as  I  have  done  other  events. 
I  shall  endeavor  to  discover  its  leading  fact,  to  describe  its 
general  character,  and  to  show  the  part  which  this  great  event 
han  performed  in  the  process  of  European  civilization. 

You  remember  the  situation  in  which  we  left  Europe,  at 
the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century.  We  saw,  in  the  course  of 
it,  two  great  attempts  at  religious  revolution  or  reform ;  an  at- 
tempt ai  legal  reform  by  the  councils,  and  an  attempt  at  revo- 
lutionary reform,  in  Bohemia,  by  the  Hussites  ;  we  saw  both 
these  stifled  and  rendered  abortive  ;  and  yet  we  concluded 
ihat  the  event  was  one  which  could  not  be  staved  off,  but  that 
it  must  necessarily  reappear  in  one  shape  or  another  ;  and  that 
what  the  fifteenth  century  attempted  would  be  inevitably  ac- 
complished by  the  sixteenth.  I  shall  not  enter  into  any  de- 
tails respecting  the  religious  revolution  of  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, which  I  consider  as  being  generally  known.  I  shall 
confine  myself  solely  to  the  consideration  of  its  general  in- 
fluence on  the  destinies  of  mankind. 


, 


In  the  inquiries  which  have  been  made  into  the  causes 
hich  produced  this  great  event,  the  enemies  of  the  Refor 


CIVILIZA1  ION     IN     MODKRX     JLURO/'E 

mation  have  imputed  it  to  accidents  and  misch..m :<  s,  .n  the 
OOUTM  of  civilization  ;  for  instance,  to  the  sale  of  indulgences 
having  been  intrusted  to  the  Dominicans,  and  excited  the 
jealousy  of  the  Augustines.  Luther  was  an  Augustine  ;  and 
this,  therefore,  was  the  moving  power  which  put  the  Refor- 
mation in  action.  Others  have  ascribed  it  to  the  ambition  oi 
soveieigns — to  their  rivalry  with  the  ecclesiastical  power,  and 
to  ihe  avidity  of  the  lay  nobility,  who  wished  to  take  posses- 
sion ot  the  property  of  the  Church.  In  this  manr<er  the  Re- 
formation has  been  accounted  for,  by  looking  at  the  evil  side 
of  Unman  nature  and  human  affairs  ;  by  having  recourse  to 
the  pnvate  interests  and  selfish  passions  of  individuals. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  friends  and  partisans  of  the  Refor- 
mation have  endeavored  to  account  for  it  by  the  pure  desire 
of  eliectually  reforming  the  existing  abuses  of  the  Church. 
They  have  represented  it  as  a  redress  of  religious  grievances, 
is  an  enterprise  conceived  and  executed  with  the  sole  design  / 
of  re-constituting  the  Church  in  its  primitive  purity.    Neither  ' 
of  these  explanations  appears  to  me  well  founded.     There  is 
more  truth  in  the  latter  than  in  the  former ;  at  least,  the  causo 
assigned  is  greater,  and  in  better  proportion  to  the  extent  and 
importance  of  the  event ;  but,  still,  I  do  not  consider  it  as  cor- 
rect.    In  my  opinion,  the  Reformation  neither  was  an  acci\ 
dent,  the  result  of  some  casual  circumstance,  or  some  per- 1 
sonal  interests,  nor  arose  from  unmingled  views  of  religious  j 
improvement,  the  fruit  of  Utopian  humanity  and  truth.     It  had 
a  more  powerful  cause  than  all  these ;  a  general  cause,  to 
which  all  the  others  were  subordinate.     It  was  a  vast  effort 
made  by  the  human  mind  to  achieve  its  freedom;  it  was  a 
new  born  desire  which  it  felt  to  think  and  judge,  freely  and 
independently,  of  facts  and  opinions  which,  till  then,  Europe 
received,  or  was  considered  bound  to  receive,  from  the  hands 
of  authority.     It  was  a  great  endeavor  to  emancipate  human 
reason  ;  and  to  call  things  by  their  right  names,  it  was  an  in- 
surrection of  the  human  mind  against  the  absolute  power  of    /    -r 
epiritual  order.     Such,  in  my  opinion,  was  the  true  character 
and  .eading  principle  of  the  Reformation. 


When  we  consider  the  state  of  the  human  mind,  at  this 
lime,  on  one  hand,  and  the  state  of  the  spiritual  power  of  the 
Church,  which  had  the  government  of  the  human  mind,  on 
the  other,  a  double  fact  presents  itself  to  our  notice 


256  GENERAL    HISTORY    05 


L 


In  looking  at  the  human  mind,  we  observe  much  greater  ac- 
tivity, and  a  much  greater  desire  to  develop  its  powers,  than 
it  had  ever  felt  before.  This  new  activity  was  the  result  of 
various  causes  which  had  been  accumulating  for  ages.  Foi 
example,  there  were  ages  in  which  heresies  sprang  up,  sub- 
sisted for  a  time,  and  then  gave  way  to  others  ;  there  were 
other  ages  in  which  philosophical  opinions  ran  just  the  same 
course  as  heresies.     The  labors  of  the  human  mind,  whethei 

(in  the  sphere  of  religion  or  of  philosophy,  had  been  accumu- 
lating from  the  eleventh  to  the  sixteenth  century ;  and  the 
time  was  now  come  when  they  must  necessarily  have  a  re- 
sult. Besides  this,  the  means  of  instruction  created  or  favor- 
ed in  the  bosom  of  the  Church  itself,  had  brought  forth  fruit. 
Schools  had  been  instituted  ;  these  schools  had  produced 
men  of  considerable  knowledge,  and  their  number  had  daily 
increased.  These  men  began  to  wish  to  think  for  themselves, 
for  they  felt  themselves  stronger  than  they  had  ever  been  be- 
fore. At  last  came  that  restoration  of  the  human  mind  to  a 
(pristine  youth  and  vigor,  which  the  revival  of  the  learning  and 
arts  of  antiquity  brought  about,  the  progress  and  effects  of 
which  I  have  already  described. 

These  various  causes  combined,  gave,  at  the  beginning  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  a  new  and  powerful  impulse  to  the  hu- 
man mind,  an  imperious  desire  to  go  forward. 

jtji      The  situation  of  the  spiritual  power,  which  then  had  the 
1   government  of  the  human  mind,  was  totally  different ;  it,  on 
£/£,      r  the  contrary,  had  fallen  into  a  state  of  imbecility,  and  remain- 
[  ed  stationary.     The  political  influence  of  the  Church  and 
Court  of  Rome  was  much  diminished.     European  society  had 
passed  from  the  dominion  of  Rome  to  that  of  temporal  govern- 
ments.    Yet  in  spite  of  all  this,  the  spiritual  power  still  pre- 
served its  pretensions,  splendor,  and   outward   importance. 
<ot'rhtrt/''  The  same  thing  happened  to  it  which  has  so  often  happened 
v         to  long  established  governments.     Most  of  the  complaints 
^ '  -nade  against  it  were  now  almost  groundless.     It  is  not  true, 
[that  in  the  sixteenth  century,  the  Court  of  Rome  was  very 
Uyrannical ;  it  is  not  true,  that  its  abuses  were  more  numerous 
and  crying  than  they  had  been  at  former  periods.     Never, 
perhaps,  on  the  contrary,  had  the  government  of  the  Church 
been  more  indulgent,  more  tolerant,  more  disposed  to   let 
things  take  their  course,  provided  it  was  not  itself  implicated, 
provided  that  the  rights  it  had  hitherto  enjoyed  were  acknow 


civilization   in  modkkx   europi: 

edged  eten  though  left  unexercised,  and  that  it  w.  s  assured 

>f  iis  usual  existence,  and  received  its  usual  tributes.     It 

would  willingly  have  left  the  human  mind  to  itself,  if  the  hu- 
nan  mind  had  been  as  tolerant  towards  its  offences.     But  i£\ 
usually  happens,  that  just  when  governments  have  begun  to  \ 
lose  their  influence  and  power,  just  when  they  are  compara- 
tively harmless,  that  they  are  most  exposed  to  attack;  it  is 
then  that,  like  the  sick  lion,  they  maybe  attacked  with  impu- 
nity, though  the   attempt  would  have  been  desperate  whenJ 
they  were  in  the  plenitude  of  their  power. 

It  is  evident,  therefore,  simply  from  the  consideration  of  the  \ 
state  of  the  human  mind  at  this  period,  and  of  the  power  I 
which  then  governed  it,  that  the  Reformation  must  have  been,  J 
I  repeat   it,  a  sudden  effort  made   by  the   human  mind  to  / 
achieve  its  liberty,  a  great  insurrection  of  human  intelligence./ 
This,  doubtless,  was  the  leading  cause  of  the  Re  formation  ,\ 
the  cause  which  soared  above  all  the  rest ;  a  cause  superior 
to  every  interest  either  of  sovereigns  or  of  nations,  superior 
to  the  need  of  reform  properly  so  called,  or  of  the  redress  of  / 
the  grievances  which  were  complained  of  at  this  period.       • 

Let  us  suppose,  that  after  the  first  years  of  the  Reformation\ 
had  passed  away,  when  it  had  made  all  its  demands,  and  in- 
sisted on  all  its  grievances, — let  us  suppose,  I  say,  that  the 
spiritual  power  had  conceded  everything,  and  said,  "  Well,  be 
it  so  ;  I  will  make  ever)'-  reform  you  desire  ;  I  will  return  to  ; 
a  more  legal,  more  truly  religious  order  of  affairs.  I  will 
suppress  arbitrary  exactions  and  tributes  ;  even  in  matters  of 
belief  I  will  modify  my  doctrines,  and  return  to  the  primitive 
standard  of  Christian  faith.  But,  having  thus  redressed  all 
your  grievances,  I  must  preserve  my  station,  and  retain,  as 
formerly,  the  government  of  the  human  mind,  with  all  the 
powers  and  all  the  rights  which  I  have  hitherto  enjoyed." — 
Can  we  believe  that  the  religious  revolution  would  have  been 
satisfied  with  these  concessions,  and  would  have  stopped 
short  in  its  course  ?  I  cannot  think  so  ;  I  firmly  believe  thai 
it  would  have  continued  its  career,  and  that  after  having  ob- 
tained reform,  it  would  have  demanded  liberty.  The  crisis 
_>f  the  sixteenth  century  was  not  merely  of  a  reforming  char- 
acter ;  it  was  essentially  revolutionary.  It  cannot  be  deprived 
of  this  character,  with  all  the  good  and  evil  that  belongs  u 
it :  its  nature  may  be  traced  in  its  effects 


258  U  EVER  A  J.     HISTORY    O*' 

Let  us  take  a  glance  at  thi  destinies  of  the  Reformation ; 
let  us  see,  more  particularly,  what  it  has  produced  in  the  dif 
ferent  countries  in  which  it  developed  itself.  It  can  hardly 
escape  observation  that  it  exhibited  itself  in  very  different 
situations,  and  with  very  different  chances  of  success  ;  if  then 
we  find  that,  notwithstanding  this  diversity  of  situations  and 
chances,  it  has  always  pursued  a  certain  object,  obtained  a 
certain  result,  and  preserved  a  certain  character,  it  mus*  be 
evident  that  this  charactei,  which  has  surmounted  all  the  di- 
versities of  situation,  all  the  inequalities  of  chance,  must  be 
'he  fundamental  character  of  the  event ;  and  that  this  result 
must  be  the  essential  object  of  its  pursuit. 

y  Well  then,  wherever  the  religious  revolution  of  the  sixteenth 
/century  prevailed,  if  it  did  not  accomplish  a  complete  eman- 
J  cipation  of  the  human  mind,  it  procured  it  a  new  and  great 
increase  of  liberty.  It  doubtless  left  the  mind  subject  to  all 
the  chances  of  liberty  or  thraldom  which  might  arise  from 
political  institutions  ;  but  it  abolished  or  disarmed  the  spiritual 
power,  the  systematic  and  formidable  government  of  the  mind. 
This  was  the  result  obtained  by  the  Reformation,  notwith- 
standing the  infinite  diversity  of  circumstances  under  which 
/-it  took  place.  In  Germany  there  was  no  political  liberty ;  the 
Reformation  did  not  introduce  it ;  it  rather  strengthened  than 
enfeebled  the  power  of  princes  ;  it  was  rather  opposed  to  the 
free  institutions  of  the  middle  ages  than  favorable  to  their 
^progress.  Still,  in  spite  of  this,  it  excited  and  maintained  in 
j  Germany  a  greater  freedom  of  thought,  probably,  than  in  any 
other  country.  In  Denmark  too,  a  country  in  which  absolute 
power  predominated  in  the  municipal  institutions,  as  well  as 
the  general  institutions  of  the  state,  thought  was  emancipated 
through  the  influence  of  the  Reformation,  and  freely  exercised 
on  ever/  subject.  In  Holland,  under  a  republic  ;  in  Eng'and. 
under  a  constitutional  monarchy,  and  in  spite  of  a  religious 
tyranny  which  was  long  very  severe,  the  emancipation  of  the 
human  mind  was  accomplished  by  the  same  influence.  And 
lastly,  in  France,  which  seemed  from  its  situation  the  least 
likely  of  any  to  be  affected  by  this  religious  revolution,  even 
in  this  country,  where  it  was  actually  overcome,  it  became  a 
principle  of  mental  independence,  of  intellectual  freedom. 
Till  the  year  1685,  that  is,  till  the  revocation  of  the  edict  of 
Nantes,  the  Reformation  enjoyed  a  legal  existence  in  France. 
During  this  long  space  of  tine,  the  reformers  wrote,  disputed, 


ILIZATION    IN    KODERN    KOROPI.  259 

ind  provoked  their  ad\  ersaries  to  write  and  dispute  with  them 
This  Single  fact,  this  war  of  tracts  ai.l  disputations  between 
tho  old  and  new  opinions,  diffused  in  France  a  greater  degree 
of  real  and  active  liberty  than  is  commonly  believed  ;  a  liberty 
which  redounded  to  the  advantage  of  science  and  morality,  to 
the  honor  of  the  French  clergy,  and  to  the  benefit  of  the  mind 
in  general.  Look  at  the  conferences  of  Bossuet  with  Claude, 
and  at  all  the  religious  controversy  of  that  period,  and  ask 
yourselves  if  Louis  XIV.  would  have  permitted  a  similar  de- 
gree of  freedom  on  any  other  subject.  It  was  between  the 
reformers  and  the  oppesite  party  that  the  greatest  freedom  of 
opinion  existed  in  the  seventeenth  century.  Religious  ques- 
tions were  treated  in  a  bolder  and  freer  spirit  of  speculation 
ihan  political,  even  by  Fenelon  himself  in  his  Telemachus. 
This  state  of  things  lasted  till  the  revocation  of  the  edict  of 
Nantes.  Now,  from  the  year  1685  to  the  explosion  of  the 
human  mind  in  the  eighteenth  century,  there  was  not  an  inter- 
val of  forty  years  ;  and  the  influence  of  the  religious  revolu- 
tion in  favor  of  intellectual  liberty  had  scarcely  ceased  when 
the  influence  of  the  revolution  in  philosophy  began  to  operate. 

You  see,  then,  that  wherever  the  Reformation  penetrated^ 
wherever  it  acted  an  important  part,  whether  conqueror  or  j 
conquered,  its  general,  leading,  and  constant  result  was  an  | 
immense  progress  in  mental  activity  and  freedom  ;  an  immense  / 
step  towards  the  emancipation  of  the  human  mind.  A.—/ 

Again,  not  only  was  this  the  result  of  the  Reformation,  buf) 
it  was  content  with  this  result.  Wherever  this  was  obtained, 
no  oth~er^waT80Ught  foF;  so  entirely  was  it  the  very  founda- 
tion of  the  event,  its  primitive  and  fundamental  character ! 
Thus,  in  Germany,  far  from  demanding  political  liberty,  the 
Reformation  accepted,  I  shall  not  say  servitude,  but  the  ab- 
sence of  liberty.  In  England,  it  consented  to  the  hierarchi 
cal  constitution  of  the  clergy,  and  to  the  existence  of  a  Church, 
as  full  of  abuses  as  ever  the  Romish  Church  had  been,  and 
much  more  servile.  Why  did  the  Reformation,  so  ardent  and 
rigid  in  certain  respects,  exhibit,  in  these  instances,  so  much 
facility  and  suppleness  1  Because  it  had  obtained  the  general 
result  to  which  it  tended,  the  abolition  of  the  spiritual  rower, 
and  the  emancipation  of  the  human  mind.  I  repeat  it ;  wher« 
ever  the  Reformation  attained  this  object,  it  accommodated 
itself  to  every  form  of  government,  and  to  every  situation. 


) 


2C0  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

Let  us  now  test  this  fact  by  the  opposite  mode  of  projf ; 
let  us  see  what  happened  in  those  countries  into  which  the 
Reformation  did  not  penetrate,  or  in  which  it  was  early  sup- 
pressed. We  learn  from  history  that,  in  those  countries,  the 
human  mind  was  not  emancipated  ;  witness  two  great  coun- 
tries, Spain  and  Itdy.  While,  in  those  parts  of  Europe  into 
which  the  Reformation  very  largely  entered,  the  human  mind 
during  the  last  three  centuries,  has  acquired  an  activity  and 
freedom  previously  unknown ; — in  those  other  parts,  into 
which  it  was  never  allowed  to  make  its  way,  the  mind,  dur- 
ing the  same  period,  has  become  languid  and  inert :  so  that 
opposite  sets  of  facts,  which  happened  at  the  same  time,  con- 
cur in  establishing  the  same  result. 


The  impulse  which  was  given  to  human  thought,  and  the 
abolition  of  absolute  power  in  the  spiritual  order,  consti- 
tuted, then,  the  essential  character  of  the  Reformation,  the 
most  general  result  of  its  influence,  the  ruling  fact  in  ite 
destiny. 

I  use  the  word  fact,  and  I  do  so  on  purpose.  The  eman- 
cipation of  the  human  mind,  in  the  course  of  the  Reformation, 
\  was  a  fact  rather  than  a  principle,  a  result  rather  than  an  in- 
V  tention.  The  Reformation,  I  believe,  has  in  this  respect,  per- 
formed more  than  it  undertook, — more,  probably,  than  it  de- 
sired. Contrary  to  what  has  happened  in  many  other  revolu- 
tions, the  effects  of  which  have  not  come  up  to  their  design, 
the  consequences  of  the  Reformation  have  gone  beyond  the 
object  it  had  in  view  ;  it  is  greater,  considered  as  an  event, 
than  as  a  system  ;  it  has  never  completely  known  all  that  it 
has  done  nor,  if  it  had,  would  it  have  completely  avowed  it. 

What  are  the  reproaches  constantly  applied  to  the  Refot 
mation  by  its  enemies  ?  which  of  its  results  are  thrown  in  its 
face,  as  it  were,  as  unanswerable  ? 
s-     The  two  principal  reproaches  are,  first,  the  multiplicity  of 
sects,  the  excessive  license  of  thought,  the  destruction  of  al] 
spiritual  authority,  and  the  entire  dissolution  of  religious  so- 
ciety r  secondty,  tyranny  and   persecution.     "  You   provoke 
licentiousness,"  it  has  been  said  to  the    Reformers, — "  you 
ity  nroduced  it ;  and,  after  having  been  the  cause  of  it,  you  wish 
/    to  restrain  and  repress  it.    And  how  do  you  repress  it  ?    Bj 
the  most  harsh  and  violent  means      You  take  upon   your- 


civilization   in    KODBSM    k;ii;<'  'J'!l 

Betas,  too,  to  ponish  heresy,  and  thai  by  virtue  of  an  illegiti- 
mate authority."' 

If  we  take  a  review  of  all  the  principal  charges  which 
DATS  been  made  against  the  Reformation,  we  shall  find,  if 
we  set  aside  all  questions  purely  doctrinal,  that  the  above  are 
the  two  fundamental  reproaches  to  which  they  may  all  be 
reduced. 

These  charges  gave  great  embarrassment  to  tho  reforn/ 
party,  When  they  were  taxed  with  the  multiplicity  of  theil 
etcts,  instead  of  advocating  the  freedom  of  religious  opinion! 
iind  maintaining  the  right  of  every  sect  to  entire  toleration) 
they  denounced  sectarianism,  lamented  it,  and  endeavored  to 
lind  excuses  for  its  existence.  Were  they  accused  of  persc-| 
cution  1  They  were  troubled  to  defend  themselves  ,  they 
used  the  plea  of  necessity  ;  they  had,  they  said,  the  right  to 
repress  and  punish  error,  because  they  were  in  possession  of 
the  truth.  Their  articles  of  belief,  they  contended,  and  their 
institutions,  were  the  only  legitimate  ones  ;  and  if  the  Church 
of  Rome  had  not  the  right  to  punish  the  reformed  party,  it 
was  because  she  was  in  the  wrong  and  they  in  the  right. 

And  when  the  charge  of  persecution  was  applied  to  the 
ruling  party  in  the  Reformation,  not  by  its  enemies,  but  by  its 
own  offspring  ;  when  the  sects  denounced  by  that  party  said, 
M  We  are  doing  just  what  you  did  ;  we  separate  ourselves^ 
from  you,  just  as  you  separated  yourselves  from  the  Church  J 
of  Rome,"  this  ruling  party  were  still  more  at  a  loss  to  find  j 
an  answer,  and  frequently  the  only  answer  they  had  to  give  I 
was  an  increase  of  severity. 

The  truth  is,  that  while  laboring  for  the  destruction  of  ab- 
solute power  in  the  spiritual  order,  the  religious  revolution  of 
the  sixteenth  century  was  not  aware  of  the  true  principles  of 
intellectual  liberty.  It  emancipated  the  human  mind,  and  yet ] 
pretended  still  to  govern  it  by  laws.  In  point  of  fact  it  pro- 
duced the  prevalence  of  free  inquiry  ;  in  point  of  principle  h 
believed  that  it  was  substituting  a  legitimate  for  an  illegitimate! 
pover.  It  had  not  looked  up  to  the  primary  motive,  nor  dowr, 
to  the  ultimate  consequences  of  its  own  work.  It  thus  fell 
into  a  double  error.  On  the  one  side  it  did  not  know  or  re- 
spect all  the  rights  of  human  thought ;  at  the  very  moment  that 
it  was  demanding  these  rights  for  itself,  it  was  violating  them 
towards  others.  On  the  other  side,  it  was  unable  to  estimate 
•.he  rights  of  authority  in  matters  of  reason.      I   do  not  speak 


262  5ENERAL    HISTORY     O* 

of  that  coercive  authority  which  ought  to  have  no  rights  at 
all  in  such  matters,  but  of  that  kind  of  authority  which  is 
purely  moral,  and  acts  solely  by  its  influence  upon  the  mmd* 
In  most  reformed  countries  something  is  wanting  to  complete 
the  proper  organization  of  intellectual  society,  and  to  the  regu- 
lar action  of  old  and  general  opinions.  What  is  due  to  and 
required  by  traditional  belief,  has  not  been  reconciled  with 
what  is  due  to  and  required  by  freedom  of  thinking ;  and  the 
cause  of  this  undoubtedly  is,  that  the  Reformation  did  not 
fully  comprehend  and  accept  its  own  principles  and  effects. 

Hence,  too,  the  Reformation  acquired  an  appearance  of  in- 
consistency and  narrowness  of  mind,  which  has  often  given 
an  advantage  to  its  enemies.  They  knew  very  well  what 
they  were  about,  and  what  they  wanted ;  they  cited  the  prin- 
ciples of  their  conduct  without  scruple,  and  avowed  all  its  con- 
(sequences.  There  never  was  a  government  more  consistent 
and  systematic  than  that  of  the  Church  of  Rome.  In  point 
of  fact t  the  Court  of  Rome  made  more  compromises  and  con- 
cessions than  the  Reformation  ;  in  point  of  principle,  it  ad- 
hered much  more  closely  to  its  system,  and  maintained  a 
more  consistent  line  of  conduct.  Great  strength  is  gained  by 
a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  nature  of  one's  own  views  and 
actions,  by  a  complete  and  rational  adoption  of  a  certain  prin- 
ciple and  design  :  and  a  striking  example  of  this  is  to  be 
found  in  the  course  of  the  religious  revolution  of  the  sixteenth 
century.  Every  body  knows  that  the  principal  power  institu- 
ted to  contend  against  the  Reformation  was  the  order  of  the 

XJesuits.  Look  for  a  moment  at  their  history ;  they  failed 
everywhere ;  wherever  they  interfered,  to  any  extent,  they 
brought  misfortune  upon  the  cause  in  which  they  meddled. 

flu  England  they  ruined  kings  ;  in  Spain,  whole  masses  of  the 
people.  The  general  course  of  events,  the  development  of 
modern  civilization,  the  freedom  of  the  human  mind,  all  these 
forces  with  which  the  Jesuits  were  called  upon  to  contend, 
rose  up  against  them  and  overcame  them.  And  not  only  did 
they  fail,  but  you  must  remember  what  sort  of  means  they 

[were  constrained  to  employ.  There  was  nothing  great  01 
splendid  in  what  they  did  ;  they  produced  no  striking  events, 
they  did  not  put  in  mo'ion  powerful  masses  of  men.  They 
proceeded  by  dark  and  hidden  courses  ;  courses  by  no  means 
calculated  to  strike  the  imagination,  or  to  conciliate  that  pub* 
lie  interest  which  always  attaches  itself  to  great  things,  what- 
ever may  be  their  principle  and  object.     The  party  opposed 


CIVILISATION     IN    MODERN     EUROPE. 

a  them,  on  the  oontrarr,  not.  only  overcame,  but  cvercame 
ilv  ;  did  groat  things  and  by  great  mean?  •  overspread 
Europe  with  great  men  ;  changed,  in  open  day,  the  condition 
and  form  of  States.     Every  thing,  in  short,  was  against  the 
Jesuits,  both  fortune  and  appearances ;  reason,  which  desirew 
success, — and  imagination,  which  requires  eclat,— were  alike 
disappointed  by  their  fate.     Still,  however,  they  were  un- 
doubtedly possessed  of  grandeur ;  great  ideas  are  attached 
ID  their  name,  their  influence,  and  their  history.     The  reason 
is.  that  they  knew  what  they  did,  and  what  they  wished  to  ac- 
complish ;  that  they  were  fully  and  clearly  aware  of  the  priin 
ciples  upon  which  they  acted,  and  of  the  object  which  they 
had  in  view.     They  possessed  grandeur  of  thought  and  of\ 
will ;  and  it  was  this  that  saved  them  from  the  ridicule  which  \ 
attends    constant   reverses,   and   the   use   of  paltry  means.  J 
Wherever,  on  the  contrary,  the  event  has  been  greater  thanA 
the  design,  wherever  there  is  an  appearance  of  ignorance  of  \ 
the  first  principles  and  ultimate  results  of  an  action,  there  has  \ 
always  remained  a  degree  of  incompleteness,  inconsistency,   J 
and  narrowness  of  view,  which  has  placed  the  very  victors   / 
in  a  state  of  rational  or  philosophical  inferiority,  the  influence  / 
of  which   has    sometimes  been  apparent  in  the   course  of/ 
events.     This,  I  think,  in  the  struggle  between  the  old  and 
the  new  order  of  things,  in  matters  of  religion,  was  the  weak 
side  of  the  Reformation,  which  often  embarrassed  its  situation, 
and  prevented  it  from  defending  itself  so  well  as  it  had  a 
right  to  do. 

I  might  consider  the  religious  revolution  of  the  sixteenth 
century  under  many  other  aspects.     1  have  said  nothing,  and 
have  nothing  to  say,  respecting  it  as  a  matter  of  doctrine — 
respecting  its   effects  on  religion,  properly  so   called,  or  re- 
specting the  relations  of  the  human  soul  with   God  and  an 
eternal  futurity ;  but  I  might  exhibit  it  in  its  various  relations 
with  social  order,  everywhere  producing  results  of  immense 
importance.      For  example,  it  introduced  religion   into  the^x 
midst  of  the  laity,  into  the   world,  so  to  speak,  of  believers, 
'lill  then,  religion  had  been  the   exclusive  domain  of  the) 
ecclesiastical  order      The  clergy  distributed  the   proceeds, 
but  reserved  to  themselves  the  disposal  of  the  capital,  and  al- 
most the  exclusive  right  even  to  speak  of  it.     The  Reformat 
lion  again  threw  matters  of  religious  belief  into  general  circu- 
lation, and  again  opened  to  believers   the   field  of  faith  into    ) 


264  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 


^which  they  had  not  been  permitted  to  enter.     It  had,  at  the 
'  same  time,  a  further  result ;  it  banished,  or  nearly  so,  religion 


l 


from  politics,  and  restored  the  independence  of  the  temporal 
power.  At  the  same  moment  that  religion  returned  into  the 
possession  of  believers,  it  quitted  the  government  of  society. 
In  the  reformed  countries,  in  spite  of  the  diversities  of  eccle- 
siastical constitutions,  even  in  England,  whose  constitution 
is  most  nearly  akin  to  the  old  order  of  things,  the  spiritual 
power  has  no  longer  any  serious  pretensions  to  the  govern- 
ment of  the  temporal  power. 

I  might  enumerate  many  other  consequences  of  the  Refor- 
mation, but  I  must  limit  myself  to  the  above  general  views  , 
and  I  am  satisfied  with  having  placed  before  you  its  principal 
feature — the  emancipation  of  the  human  mind,  and  the  aboli- 
tion of  absolute  power  in  the  spiritual  order  ;  an  abolition 
which,  though,  undoubtedly,  not  complete,  is  yet  the  greatest 
step  which,  down  to  our  own  times,  has  ever  been  made  to- 
wards the  attainment  of  that  object. 

Before  concluding,  I  pray  you  to  remark,  what  a  striking 
resemblance  of  destiny  there  is  to  be  found%  in  the  history  of 
modern  Europe,  between  civil  and  religious  society,  in  the 
\revolutions  they  have  had  to  undergo. 

Christian  society,  as  we  have  seen  when  I  spoke  of  the 
Church,  was,  at  first,  a  state  of  society  perfectly  free,  formed 
entirely  in  the  name  of  a  common  belief,  without  institutions 
or  government,  properly  so  called  ;  regulated,  solely,  by  moral 
and  variable  powers,  according  to  the  exigencies  of  the  mo- 
ment.* Civil  society  began,  in  like  manner,  in  Europe, 
partly,  at  least,  by  bands  of  barbarians  ;  it  was  a  state  of  so- 
ciety perfectly  free,  in  which  every  one  remained,  because  he 
wished  to  do  so,  without  laws  or  powers  created  by  institu- 
tions. In  emerging  from  that  state  which  was  inconsistent 
with  any  great  social  development,  religious  society  placed 
itself  under  a  government  essentially  aristocratic  ;  its  govern- 
ors were  the  clergy,  the  bishops,  the  councils,  the  ecclesias- 
tical aristocracy.  A  fact  of  the  same  kind  took  place  in  civil 
society  when  it  emerged  from  barbarism  ;  it  was,  in  like  man- 
ner, the  aristocracy,  the  feudalism  of  the  laity,  which  laid  hold 
of  the  power  of  government.  Religious  society  quitted  the 
aristocratic  form  of  government  to  assume  that  of  pure  mon 


*  Sec  note  5,  page  51. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  2G5 

*rchy ;  this  was  the  rationale  of  the  triumph  of  the  Court  of 
Rome  over  the  councils  and  the  ecclesiastical  aristocracy  of 
Europe.     The  same  revolution  was  accomplished  in  civil  so- 
j   it  was,  in  like  manner,  by  the  destruction  of  the  aris 
tocratic  power,  that  monarchy  prevailed,  and  took  possession 
of  the  European  world.     In  the  sixteenth  century,  in  the  heart\ 
of  religious  society,  an  insurrection  broke  out  against  the  sys-   \ 
tern  of  pure  ecclesiastical  monarchy,  against  absolute  power    I 
in  the  spiritual  order.     This  revolution  produced,  sanctioned ,  / 
and  established  freedom  of  inquiry  in  Europe.     In  our  owrr 
time  we  have  witnessed  a  similar  event  in  civil  society.     Ab- 
solute temporal  power,  in  like  manner,  was  attacked  and  over- 
come.    You  sec,  then,  that  the   two  orders  of  society  have 
undergone  the  same  vicissitudes  and  revolutions  ;  only  reli- 
gious society  has  always  been  the  foremost  in  this  career. 

We  are  now  in  possession  of  one  of  the  great  facts  in  theA 
history  of  modern  society — freedom  of  inquiry,  the  liberty  of  J 
the  human  mind.  We  see,  at  the  same  time,  the  almost  uni- 
versal prevalence  of  political  centralization.  In  my  next  lec- 
ture I  shall  consider  the  revolution  in  England;  the  event  in 
which  freedom  of  inquiry  and  a  pure  monarchy,  both  results 
of  the  progress  of  civilization,  came,  for  the  first  time,  into 
collision.28 

2i  The  subject  of  the  foregoing  lecture  is  so  vast,  so  important  in 
itself,  and  so  complicated  with  all  the  great  political  events  of  Eu- 
rope for  many  years,  that  the  views  presented  by  the  author  cannot 
be  competently  appreciated  (if  even  their  force  and  bearing  can  be 
well  comprehended)  without  a  more  thorough  and  familiar  ac- 
quaintance with  the  facts,  the  history  of  the  period,  than  is  likely 
to  be  possessed  by  the  young  student.  To  give  here  such  an  ex- 
hibition of  the  facts  as  would  enable  him  to  judge  for  himself,  to 
accept  or  modify  the  views  of  the  author,  is  impossible.  He  must 
carefully  study  the  history  of  the  period  in  the  best  writers  :  there 
is  no  other  way  for  him  to  acquire  a  clear  and  thorough  compre- 
hension of  its  spirit,  of  the  meaning  and  value  of  the  Reformation. 
Among  the  works  to  which  he  may  be  referred  are  Robertson's 
Charles  the  Fifth,  Coxe's  Austria,  Roscoe's  Leo  X.,  Burnet's  His- 
tory of  the  Reformation ;  Ranke's  History  of  the  Popes,  D'Aubigne's 
History  of  the  Reformation,  Gibbon,  ch.  54 ;  and  for  the  English 
Reformation,  Blunt's  History,  portions  of  Hume  and  Lingard,  the 
uistones  of  Heylin,  Fuller,  Collier. 

Two  or  three  remarks  may  be  made  on  the  foregoing  lecture. 

That  the  reformation  in  England  "  consented to  the  ex- 
istence of  a  Church  as  full  of  abuses  as  ever  the  Romish  Church 
had  been,  and  much  more  servile,"  (p.  259,)  is  an  observation  which 

12 


266  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

will  be  differently  received,  according  to  differences  of  individual 
views. 

That  the  Reformation  in  regard  to  its  leading  principle  was  "  an 
insurrection  of  the  human  mind  against  the  absolute  power  ot 
spiritual  order"  (p.  256)  is  a  remark  that  needs  qualification.  No 
doubt  the  assertion  of  this  principle  of  absolute  independence,  or 
the  unlimited  right  of  private  judgment  in  religion,  became  and  has 
continued  to  be  the  great  characteristic  result  of  the  religious  re- 
volution. But  the  Reformation  did  not  at  the  outset  (any  more 
than  many  other  great  revolutions)  generalize  itself,  define  and 
enunciate  the  principles  on  which  it  proceeded  It  began  with  op- 
position to  special  abuses  and  corruptions.  Neither  Luther  nor  his 
associates  comprehended  at  first  how  far  they  should  be  carried. 
It  was  only  in  the  sequel  that  the  right  of  private  judgment  in  re- 
ligion was  brought  out,  asserted,  and  contended  for  as  a  principle. 
Luther  himself  and  the  earliest  reformers  did  not  contend  for  it  as 
an  absolute  principle.  This  is  evident  from  the  continual  offers  of 
Luther  to  submit  himself  implicitly  to  the  decision  of  a  general 
council.  It  is  evident  moreover  from  the  fact  that  the  reformers, 
just  as  much  as  the  papists,  held  it  right  to  inflict  coercion,  physi- 
cal pains,  and  death  upon  those  who  denied  what  they  regarded  as 
the  essential  faith. 

"  The  Roman  Catholics,"  says  Robertson,  "  as  their  system  rest- 
ed on  the  decisions  of  an  infallible  judge,  never  doubted  that  truth 
was  on  their  side,  and  openly  called  on  the  civil  power  to  repel  the 
impious  and  heretical  innovators  who  had  risen  up  against  it.  The 
Protestants,  no  less  confident  that  their  doctrine  was  well  founded, 
required  with  equal  ardor  the  princes  of  their  party  to  check  such 
as  presumed  to  impugn  or  oppose  it.  Luther,  Calvin,  Cranmer, 
Knox,  the  founders  of  the  reformed  church  in  their  respective  coun- 
tries, inflicted,  as  far  as  they  had  power  and  opportunity,  the  same 
punishments,  which  were  denounced  by  the  Church  of  Rome,  upon 
such  as  called  in  question  any  article  of  their  creed." 

Upon  this  passage  of  Robertson,  Smythe  (Lectures  on  Mod.  Hist, 
p.  292,  Am.  ed.)  remarks,  that  "  Luther  might  have  been  favorably 
distinguished  from  Calvin  and  others.  There  are  passages  in  his 
writings,  with  regard  to  the  interference  of  the  magistrate  in  re- 
ligious concerns,  that  do  him  honor;  but  he  was  favorably  situated 
and  lived  not  to  see  the  temporal  sword  at  his  command.  He  was 
never  tried." 

Now  whether  the  principle  of  independence  of  all  authority,  the 
absolutely  unlimited  right  of  private  judgment  in  matters  of  re- 
ligious faith,  be  or  be  not  a  correct  principle,  it  will  not  be  disputed 
a  the  present  day  that  absolute  independence  of  all  human  author- 
ity, and  so  far  forth  the  unlimited  right  of  private  judgment,  is  a  cor- 
rect principle,  and  that  all  coercion  or  physical  punishment  is  a 
monstrous  absurdity  and  a  monstrous  crime  Yet  nothing  is  clearer 
from  history  than  that  the  reformers  did  not  understand,  did  not  act 
upon  this  principle  ■  it  was  a  century  and  a  half  before  Protestants 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN     EUROl  K.  261 

learned  deLnitively  that  they  hid  no  right  to  inflict  death,  im- 
pri>onment,  stripes  or  lines  upon  heretics,  ami  no  right  beyond 
that  of  simply  separating  from  their  communion.  It  is  a  prevalent 
opinion  among  us,  that  the  Romanists  are  the  only  ones  who  put 
people  to  death  on  account  of  their  religious  opinions.  Protestants 
should  know  that  this  is  not  the  case.  So  far  from  it,  much  sad 
warrant  was  given  for  the  taunt  of  the  Papists,  "  that  the  reformers 
were  only  against  burning  when  they  were  in  fear  of  it  themselves." 
It  is  far  Letter  therefore  not  to  burden  the  defence  of  the  Reforma- 
tion with  the  impossible  task  of  denying  or  palliating  the  indefen- 
sible acts  of  its  first  authors — acts  to  which  they  were  led  because 
they  themselves  were  not  yet  fully  emancipated  from  the  corrupt 
principles  of  the  age.  The  great  cause  of  the  Reformation  does 
not  stand  or  fall  on  such  grounds  ;  and  nothing  is  lost  by  freely  ad 
nutting  all  the  persecuting  acts  of  the  early  reformers. 

Calvin  burnt  Servetus  for  heresy:  the  mild  Melancthon  approv- 
ed the  act ;  so  did  Bucer,  (Calv.  Epist.  p.  147,  ed.  Genev.  1575). 

Calvin,  in  his  letter  to  the  Earl  of  Somerset,  lord  Protector 7>f 
England,  (Epist.  p.  67,)  speaking  of  the  Papists  and  of  the  fanatic 
sect  of  "  Gospellers,"  says  expressly,  u  they  ought  to  be  repressed 
by  the  avenging  sword  which  the  Lord- has  put  into  your  hands,— 
jladio  ultore  coercert  quern  tibi  tradidit  Dominus." 

In  1550,  in  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.,  a  woman  was  burnt  at  the 
stake  for  some  opinion  about  the  incarnation  of  Christ.  The  king 
was  extremely  reluctant  to  sign  the  death  warrant,  and  yielded 
only  to  the  authority  of  Cranmcr.  See  Burnet.  The  Protestant 
historian  Fuller,  a  century  afterwards,  has  this  passage  about  it: 
x*  She,  with  one  or  two  Arians,were  all  who  (and  that  justly)  died 
in  this  king's  reign  for  their  opinions." — "And  that  justly  ! !" 

For  an  account  of  the  executions  and  other  severe  punishments 
inflicted  for  religious  opinions  by  the  Protestants  in  England,  see 
the  Church  Histories  of  Heylin,  Fuller,  and  Collier,  all  Protestant 
writers.  For  a  brief  summary,  see  Smythe's  Lectures  on  Mod. 
Hist.  vol.  i.  p.  266,  et  seq.  Am.  ed.  It  appears  that  many  were  put 
to  death  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII. ;  some  in  the  time  of  Edward 
VI. ;  one  hundred  and  sixty  Roman  Catholics  in  the  reign  of  Eliza- 
beth ;  sixteen  or  seventeen  in  that  of  James  I. ;  and  more  than 
twenty  by  the  Presbyterians  and  Republicans.  Some  of  these  were 
burned  or  hanged  directly  for  their  religious  opinions ;  others  under 
sanguinary  laws  enacted  on  supposed  principles  of  state  necessity 

From  a  study  of  the  history  connected  with  these  facts,  the  read- 
er will  be  able  to  judge  for  himself  how  far  the  principle  of  the 
freedom  of  the  mind  in  regard  to  religious  faith,  was  recognised 
ox  respected  by  the  reformers. 

One  more  question  the  student  should  have  before  his  mind  in 
£oing  through  the  history  of  this  period.  Admitting  the  right  of 
individual  judgment  to  be  absolutely  independent  of  all  human 
authority,  and  all  punishment  for  religious  opinions  to  be  absurd 
*nd  monstrous, — has  man,  on  the  other  hand,  a  right  to  oppose  his 


268  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF    CIVILIZATION. 

individual  judgment  to  divine  authority,  and  arbitral  ily  to  reject 
the  historical  evidence  by  which  the  divine  decision  of  any  art.'cle 
of  faith  is  established  ?  On  this  point  let  the  student  recur  to  the 
remarks  of  Guizot,  p.  261.  "  It  [the  Reformation]  fell  into  a  double 
error.  On  the  one  side  it  did  sot  know  or  respec  all  the  rights 
of  human  thought;  at  the  very  moment  that  it  was  demanding 
these  rights  for  itself,  it  was  violating  them  towards  others.  On 
the  other  side,  it  was  unable  to  estimate  the  rights  of  authority  in 
matters  of  reason.  I  do  not  speak  of  that  coercive  authority  which 
ought  to  have  no  rights  at  all  in  such  matters,  but  of  that.kind  of 
authority  which  is  purely  moral,  and  acts  solely  by  its  influence 
upon  the  mind.  In  most  reformed  countries,  something  is  want- 
ing to  complete  the  proper  organization  of  intellectual  society,  and  to 
the  regular  action  of  old  and  general  opinions.  What  is  due  to  and 
required  by  traditional  belief,  has  not  been  reconciled  with  what 
is  due  to  and  required  by  freedom  of  thinking;  and  the  cause  of 
this  undoubtedly  is,  that  the  Reformation  did  not  fully  comprehend 
and  accept  its  own  principles  and  effects." 

This  perhaps  is  the  most  important  passage  in  die  lecture  for 
the  student's  meditation,  and  indicates  a  profound  insight  on  the 
author's  part  into  the  great  problem  which  it  was  the  mission  of 
the  Reformation  to  solve ;  but  which,  as  the  author  too  truly  say4*- 
is  yet  to  be  solved. 


LECTURE  XIII 

THE    ENGLISH    REVOLUTION. 

We  have  seen,  that  during  the  course  cf  the  sixteei  .h  cen- 
tury, all  the  elements,  all  the  facts,  of  ancient  European  so- 
ciety had  merged  in  two  essential  facts,  tho  right  of  freo 
examination,  and  centralization  of  power ;  one  prevailing  in 
religious  society,  the  other  in  civil  society.  The  emancipaA 
tion  of  the  human  mind  and  absolute  monarchy  triumphed  at  j 
the  same  moment  over  Europe  in  general. 

It  could  hardly  be  conceived  that  a  struggle  between  these\ 
two  facts — the  characters  of  which  appear  so  contradictory —  1 
would  not,  at  some  time,  break  out;  for  while  one^was  the/ 
defeat  of  absolute  power  in  the  spiritual  order,  the  other  was 
the  triumph  of  absolute  power  in  the  temporal  order  ;  one 
forced  on  the  decline  of  the  ancient  ecclesiastical  monarchy, 
the  other  was  the  consummation  of  the  ruin  of  the  ancient  feu- 
dal and  municipal  liberty.  Their  simultaneous  appearance  was 
owing,  as  I  have  already  observed,  to  the  circumstance  that 
the  revolutions  of  the  religious  society  followed  more  rapidly 
than  those  of  the  civil ;  one  had  arrived  at  the  point  in  which 
the  freedom  of  individual  thought  was  secured,  while  the 
other  still  lingered  on  the  spot  where  the  concentration  of  all 
the  powers  in  one  general  power  took  place.  The  co-inci- 
dence of  these  two  fact3,  so  far  from  being  the  consequence 
of  their  similitude,  did  not  even  prevent  their  contradiction. 
They  were  both  advances  in  the  march  of  civilization,  buf 
they  were  advances  connected  with  different  situations ;  ad- 
vances of  a  different  moral  date,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  ex- 
pression, although  coincident  in  time.  From  their  position  it 
seemed  inevitable  that  they  must  clash  and  combat  before 
eeonciliation  could  bo  effected  between  them. 


The  first  shock  between  them  took  place  in  England.  The 
struggle  of  the  right  of  free  inquiry,  the  fruit  of  the  Reformation, 
against  the  entire  suppression  of  political  liberty,  the  object 


270  GENEEAL    HISTORY    OF 

aimed  at  by  pure  monarchy — the  attempt  to  abolish  absolute 
power  in  the  temporal  order,  as  had  already  been  done  in  the 
spiritual  order — this  is  the  true  sense  of  the  English  revolu 
lion  ;  this  is  the  part  it  took  in  the  work  of  civilization. 

/      But  how,  it  may  be  asked,  came  it  to  pass,  that  this  strug- 
j  gle  took  place  in  England  sooner  than  anywhere  else  ?  How 
;   happened  it  that  the  revolutions  of  a  political  character  coin 
I  cided  here  with  those  of  a  moral  character  sooner  than  they 
Vid  on  the  Continent  ? 

In  England,  the  royal  power  had  undergone  the  same  vi- 
cissitudes as  it  had  on  the  Continent.  Under  the  Tudor3  it 
had  reached  a  degree  of  concentration  and  vigor  which  it  had 
never  attained  to  before.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  the  practi- 
cal despotism  of  the  Tudors  was  more  violent  and  vexatious 
than  that  of  their  predecessors ;  there  were  quite  as  many, 
perhaps  more,  tyrannical  proceedings,  vexations,  and  acts  of 
injustice,  under  the  Plantagenets,  as  under  the  Tudors.  Per- 
haps, too,  at  this  very  period  the  government  of  pure  monar- 
chy was  more  severe  and  arbitrary  on  the  Continent  than  in 
/  England.  The  new  fact  under  the  Tudors  was,  that  absolute 
power  became  systematic  ;  royalty  laid  claim  to  a  primitive, 
independent  sovereignty;  it  held  a  language  which  it  had 
never  held  before.  The  theoretic  claims  of  Henry  VIII., 
Elizabeth,  James  I.,  and  Charles  I.,  are  very  different  from 
those  of  Edward  I.  and  III.,  although,  in  point  of  fact,  the 
power  of  the  two  latter  monarchs  was  nowise  less  arbitrary  or 
extensive.  I  repeat,  then,  it  was  the  principle,  the  rational 
f  system  of  monarchy,  which  changed  in  England,  in  the  six- 
\  teenth  century,  rather  than  its  practical  power  ;  royalty'  now 
declared  itself  absolute  and  superior  to  all  laws,  even  to  those 
which  it  declared  itself  willing  to  respect. 

f  There  is  another  point  to  be  considered  ;  the  religious  re- 

t  volution  had  not  been  accomplished  in  England  in  the  same 

\  way  as  on  the  Continent ;  it  was  here  the*  work  of  the  mon- 

\  archs  themselves.     It  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  seeds 

had  not  been  sown,  or  that  even  attempts  had  not  been  made 

at  a  popular  reform,  or  that  one  would  not  probably  have  soon 

broken  out.     But  Henry  VIII.  took  the  lead  ;  power  became 

revolutionary  ;  and  nence  it  happened,  at  least  in  its  origin, 

that,  as  a  redress  of  ecclesiastical  abuses,  as  an  emancipation 

of  the  human  mind  tLe  reform  in   England  was   much  less 


( 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  271 

uOiUpiete  than  upon  the  Continent.  It  was  made,  as  might 
naturally  be  expected,  in  accordance  with  the  interests  of  its 

authors.  The  king  and  the  episcopacy,  which  was  hero 
continued,  divided  between  themselves  the  riches  and  the 
power,  of  which  they  despoiled  their  predecessors,  the 
s.  The  effect  of  this  ww  soon  felt.  The  Information 
people  cried  out,  had  been  cijeod,  while  the  greater  pert  of 
the  abuses  which  had  induced  them  to  desire  it,  were  still 
continued. 

The  Reformation  re-appeared  under  a  moie  popular  form'N 
it  made  the  same  demands  of  the  bishops  that  had  already  beenH 
made  of  the  Holy  See  ;  it  accused  them  of  being  so  man^/ 
popes.     As  often  as  the  general  fate  of  the  religious  revolu- 
tion was  compromised;  whenever  a  struggle  against  the  an\ 
i  ient  Church  took  place,  the  various  portions  of  the  Reforma-\ 
tion  party  rallied  together,  and  made  common  cause  against  \ 
the  common  enemy  :  but  this  danger  over,  the  struggle  again 
broke  out  among  themselves  ;  the  popular  reform  again  at- 
tacked the  aristocratic  and  royal  reform,  denounced  its  abuses, 
complained  of  its  tyranny,  called  upon  it  to  make   good  its  / 
promises,  and  not  to  usurp  itself  the  power  which  it  had  }usy 
dethroned. 

Much  about  the  same  time  a  movement  for  liberty  took 
place  in  civil  society;  a  desire  before  unknown,- or  at  least 
but  weakly  expressed,  was  now  felt  for  political  freedom.  In 
the  course  of  the  sixteenth  century,  the  commercial  prosperity 
of  England  had  increased  with  amazing  rapidity,  while  during 
the.  same  time,  much  territorial  wealth,  much  baronial  pro- 
perty had  changed  hands.  The  numerous  divisions  of  land- 
ed property,  which  took  place  during  the  sixteenth  century, 
in  consequence  of  the  ruin  of  the  feudal  nobility,  and  from 
various  oilier  causes  which  I  cannot  now  stop  to  enumerate, 
form  a  fact  which  has  not  been  sufficiently  noticed.  A  va- 
riety of  documents  prove  how  greatly  the  number  of  landed 
properties  increased;  the  estates  going  generally  into  the 
hards  of  the  gentry,  composed  of  the  lesser  nobility,  and  per- 

jns  who  had  acquired  property  by  trade.  The  high  nobility, 
the  House  of  Lords,  did  not,  at  the  beginning  of  the  seven- 

eenth  century,  nearly  equal,  in  riches,  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. There  had  taken  place,  then,  at  the  same  time  in 
England,  a  great  increase  in  wealth  among  the  industrious 
:lasses.  and  a  great  change  in  landed  property.     While  thcee 


272  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

j    two  facta  were  being  accomplished,  there  happened  a  third  ; 
\a  new  march  of  mind. 
f     The  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth  must  be  regarded  as  a  pe 
riod  of  great  literary  and  philosophical  activity  in  England,  0 
\  period  remarkable  for  bold  and  pregnant  thought ;  the  Pari 
tans  followed,  without  hesitation,  all  the  consequences  of  a  nar 
(row,  but  powerful  creed  ;  other  intellects,  with  less  morality, 
but  more  freedom  and  boldness,  alike  regardless  of  principle 
or  system,  seized  with  avidity  upon  every  idea,  which  seem- 
ed to  promise  some  gratification  to  their  curiosity,  some  food 
(for  their  mental  ardor.     And  it  may  be  regarded  as  a  maxim, 
that  wherever  the  progress  of  intelligence  is  a  true  pleasure, 
a  desire  for  liberty  is  soon  felt,  nor  is  it  long  in  passing  from 
the  public  mind  to  the  state. 

A  feeling  of  the  same  kind,  a  sort  of  creeping  desire  for 
political  liberty,  almost  manifested  itself  in  some  of  the  coun- 
tries on  the  Continent  in  which  the  Reformation  had  made 
some  way;  but  these  countries,  being  without  the  means  of 
success,  made  no  progress  ;  they  knew  not  how  to  make 
their  desire  felt ;  they  could  find  no  support  for  it  either  in  in- 
stitutions, or  in  the  habits  and  usages  of  the  people  ;  hence 
this  desire  remained  vague,  uncertain,  and  sought  in  vain  for 
the  means  of  satisfying  its  cravings.  In  England  the  case 
was  widely  different :  the  spirit  of  political  liberty  which 
showed  itself  here  in  the  sixteenth  century,  as  a  sort  of  ap- 
pendix to  the  Reformation,  found  both  a  firm  support  and  the 
means  of  speaking  and  acting  in  the  ancient  institutions  of 
the  country,  and  indeed  the  whole  frame-work  of  English 
society. 

There  is  hardly  any  one  who  does  not  know  the  origin  of 

(  the  free  institutions  of  England.     How,  in  1215,  a  coalition 

\  of  the  great  barons  wrested  Magna  Charta  from  John  ;  but  it 

\  is  not  quite  so  generally  known,  that  this  charter  was  renews 

ed  and  confirmed,  from  time  to  time,  by  almost  every  kin?. 

/it  was  confirmed  upwards  of  thirty  times  between  the  thir- 

(  teenth  and  sixteenth  centuries,  besides  which  new   statutes 

\  were  passed  to  confirm  and  extend  its  enactments.     Thus  it 

^  Uved,  as  it  were,  without  gap  or  interval.     In  the. mean  time 

Jie  House  of  Commons  had  been  formed,  and  taken  its  place 

*  among  the  sovereign  institutions  of  the  country.     Under  the 

f  Plantagenets   it   had   taken   deep   root   and   became    firmly 

\  established  ;  not  that  at  this  time  it  played  any  great  part,  or 

had  even  much  influence  in  the  government ;  it  scarcely  »ri 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROi  I.  979 

iced  interfered  in  this  except  when  railed  upon  to  do  -o  by 
the  king,  and  then  only  with  hesitation   and  regret ;  afraid 
rather  of  bringing  itself  into  trouble  and  danger,  than  jealous 
of  augmenting  its  power  and  authority.     But  the   case  wasN 
different  when  it  was  called  upon  to  defend  private  rights,  the 
house  or  property  of  the  citizens,  or  in  short  the  rights  ami 
privileges  of  individuals ;  this  duty  the  House  of  Commons 
performed  with  wonderful  energy  and  perseverance,  putting  / 
forward  and  establishing  all  those  principles   which  have  bey 
come  the  basis  of  the  English  constitution.     Under  the  Tu- 
dors  the  House  of  Commons,  or  rather  the  Parliament  alio. 
gether,  put  on   a   new   character.     It   no   longer   defended    ) 
individual  liberty  so  well  as  under  the  Plantagenets.     Arbi- 
trary detentions,  and  violations  of  private  rights,  which  became 
much  more  frequent,  were  often  passed  in  silence.     But,  as 
a  counterbalance  for  this,  the  Parliament  interfered  to  a  much 
greater  extent  than  formerly  in  the  general  affairs  of  govern- 
ment.    Henry  VIII.,  in  order  to  change  the  religion  of  the\ 
country,  and  to  regulate  the  succession,  required  some  public  \ 
support,  some  public  instrument,  and  he  had  recourse  to  Par- 
liament, and  especially  to  the  House  of  Commons,  for  this 
purpose.     This,  which  under  the  Plantagenets  had  only  been 
a  means  of  resistance,  a  guarantee  of  private  rights,  becamo 
now,  under  the  Tudors,  an  instrument  of  government,  of  gen- 
eral policy;  so  that  at  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century,  not- 
withstanding it  had  been  the  tool,  and  submitted  to  the   will 
of  nearly  all  sorts  of  tyrannies,  its  importance  had  greatly  in- 
creased ;  the  foundation  of  its  power  was  laid,  the  foundation 
of  that  power  upon  which  truly  rests  representative  govern 
ment. 


111- 
on  / 

7 


In  taking  a  view,  then,  of  the  free  institutions  of  England 
at  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century,  we  lind  them  to  consist 
first,  of  maxims — of  principlca^of  liberty,  which  had  been 
constantlyactnowledged  in  writtenriocuments,  and  of  which 
•he  legislation  and  country  had  never  lost  sight ;  secondly,  of 
precedents,  of  examples  of  liberty ;  these,  it  is  true,  wero 
mixed  with  a  great  number  of  precedents  and  examples  of  an 
opposite  nature  ;  still  they  were  quite  sufficient  to  maintain, 
to  give  a  legal  character  to  the  claims  of  the  friends  of  liberty, 
and  to  support  them  in  their  struggle  against  arbitrary  and 
tyrannical  government ;  thirdly,  particular  and  local  institu-  , 
tions,  pregnant  with  the  seeds  of  liberty,  the  jury,  the  light ( 


274  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

}  of  holding  public  meetings,  of  bearing  arms,  to  which  must 
/  be  added  the  independence  of  municipal  administration  and 
I  jurisdiction :  fourthly  and  finally,  the  parliament  and  its  au- 
thority became  more  necessary  now  than  ever  to  the  monarchs, 
/as  these    having  dilapidated  the  greater  part  of  their  inde- 
pendent revenues,  crown  domains,  feudal  rights,  &c,  could 
j  not  support  even  the  expenses  of  their  households,  without 
having  recourse  to  a  vote  of  parliament. 

The  political  state  of  England  then  was  very  different  tc 
that  of  the  continent ;  notwithstanding  the  tyranny  of  the  Tu- 
dors,  notwithstanding  the  systematic  triumph  of  absolute  mo- 
narchy, there  still  remained  here  a  firm  support  for  the  new 
spirit  of  liberty,  a  sure  means  by  which  it  could  act. 

/  At  this  epoch,  two  national  wants  were  felt  in  England  :  on 
one  hand,  a  want  of  religious  liberty  and  of  a  continuation  of 
the  reformation  already  begun  ;  on  the  other,  a  want  of  poliii- 
cal  liberty,  which  seemed  arrested  by  the  absolute  monarchy 
now  establishing  its  power.  These  two  parties  formed  an 
alliajice  ;  the  party  which  wished  to  carry  forward  religious 
reform,  invoked  political  liberty  to  the  aid  of  its  faith  and 
conscience  against  the  bishops  and  the  crown.  The  friends 
of  political  liberty,  in  like  manner,  sought  the  aid  of  the 
Jriends  of  popular  religious  reform.  The  two  parties  joined 
/  their  forces  to  struggle  against  absolute  power,  both  spiritual 
and  political,  now  concentrated  in  the  hands  of  the  king.  Such 
is  the  origin  and  signification  of  the  English  revolution. 

f  It  appears,  then,  to  have  been  essentially  devoted  to  the 
/defence  or  conquest  of  liberty.  For  the  religious  party  it  was 
a  means,  for  the  political  party  it  was  an  end  ;  but  the  object 
of  both  was  still  liberty,  and  they  were  determined  to  pursue 
it  in  common.  Properly  speaking,  there  had  been  no  true 
quarrel  between  the  episcopal  and  puritan  party  ;  the  struggle 
was  not  about  doctrines,  about  matters  of  faith,  properly  so 
called.  I  do  not  mean  that  these  were  not  very  positive,  very 
important,  and  differences  of  great  consequence  between 
them  ;  but  this  was  not  the  main  affair.  What  the  puritan  party 
^wished  to  obtain  from  the  episcopal  was  practical  liberty ;  this 
[  was  the  object  for  which  it  struggled.  It  must,  however,  be 
admitted  that  there  did  exist  at  the  same  time,  a  religious  party 
(which  had  a  system  to  found  ,  a  set  of  doctrines,  a  form  ot 
liscipline,  an  ecclesiastic  constitution,  which  it  wished  to  cs- 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODE2N     £UKOI>X.  2ft> 

tahli.sli — 1  mean  the  Presbyterians  ;  but  though  U  did  its  best,  ^ 
it  had  noT  the  power  to  obtain  its  object.  Acting  upon  tlw 
defensive,  oppressed  by  the  bishops,  unable  to  take  a  step 
without  the  sanction  of  the  political  reformers,  its  necessary 
allies  and  chieftains,  liberty  naturally  became  its  predominant 
interest ;  this  was  the  general  interest,  the  common  desire  of 
nil  the  parties  which  concurred  in  the  movement,  ho\v?ver 
different  in  other  respects  might  be  their  views.  Takin; 
these  matters  then  altogether,  we  must  come  to  the  condi- 
tion, that  the  English  revolution  was  essentially  political  ;  it 
was  accomplished  in  the  midst  of  a  religious  people  and 
religious  ago ;  religious  ideas  end  passions  often  became  its 
instruments  ;  but  its  primary  intention  and  its  definite  object 
were  decidedly  political,  aJendency  toliberty,  the  destruction 
of  all  absolute  power. 


I  shall  now  briefly  run  over  the  various  phases  of  this  revo- 
lution, and  analyze  it  into  the  great  parties  that  succeeded  one 
another  in  its  course.  I  shall  afterwards  connect  it  with  the 
general  career  of  European  civilization  ;  I  shall  show  its  place\ 
and  influence  therein  ;  and  you  will  be  satisfied,  from  the  de- 
tail of  facts  as  well  as  from  its  first  aspect,  that  it  was  truly 
the  first  collision  of  free  inquiry  and  pure  monarchy,  the  first 
onset  that  took  place  in  the  struggle  between  these  two  great  J 
and  opposite  powers. 

Three  principal  parties  appeared  upon  the  stage  at  this  im"\ 
portant  crisis ;  three  revolutions  seem  to  have  been  contained  1 
within  it,  and  to  have  successively  appeared  upon  the  scene  J 
In  each  party,  in  each  revolution,  two  parties  moved  together 
in  alliance,  a  political  party  and  a  religious  party ;  the  former 
took  the  lead,  the  second  followed,  but  one  could  not  go  with- 
out the  other,  so  that  a  double  character  seems  to  be  imprint- 
ed upon  it  in  all  its  changes. 

The  first  party  which  appeared  in  the  field,  and  under 
whose  banners  at  the  beginning  marched  all  the  others,  was 
the  high,  pure-monarchy  party,  advocating  legal  reform 
When  the  revolution  began,  when  the  long  parliament  as« 
sembled  in  1610,  it  was  generally  said,  and  sincerely  believ- 
ed by  many,  that  a  legal,  a  constitutional  reform  would  suffice ; 
that  the  ancient  laws  and  practices  of  the  country  were  suffi- 


( 


276  GENERAL    HISTORY    U/ 

cient  to  correct  every  abuse,  to  establish  a  system  of  govern 
merit  whicfi  would  fully  meet  the  wishes  of  the  public. 

r*  This  party  highly  blamed  and  earnestly  desired  to  put  a  stor 
to  illegal  imposts,  to  arbitrary  imprisonments — to  ail  acts,  in 
deed,  contrary  to  the  known  law  and  usages  of  the  country 
/But  under  these  ideas,  there  lay  hid,  as  it  were,  a  belief  in 
the  divine  right  of  the  king,  and  in  his  absolute  power.  A 
secret  instinct  seemed  to  warn  it  that  thero  was  something 
false  and  dangerous  in  this  notion ;  and  on  this  account  it  ap- 
peared always  desirous  to  avoid  the  subject.  Forced,  how- 
ever, at  last  to  speak  out,  it  acknowledged  the  divine  right  of 
kings,  and  admitted  that  they  possessed  a  power  superior  to 
all  human  origin,  to  all  human  control ;  and  as  such  they  de- 
fended it  in  time  of  need.  Still,  however,  they  believed  that 
this  sovereignty,  though  absolute  in  principle,  was  bound  to 
exercise  its  authority  according  to  certain  rules  and  forms  ; 
that  it  could  not  go  beyond  certain  limits  ;  and  that  these 
rules,  these  forms,  and  these  limits  were  sufficiently  establish- 
ed and  guarantied  in  Magna  Charta,  in  the  confirmative 
statutes,  in  the  ancient  laws  and  usages  of  the  country.  Such 
was  the  political  creed  of  this  party.  In  religious  matters,  it 
believed  that  the  episcopacy  had  greatly  encroached  ;  that 
the  bishops  possessed  far  too  much  political  power ;  that  their 
jurisdiction  was  far  too  extensive,  that  it  required  to  be  re- 
strained, and  its  proceedings  jealously  watched.  Still  it  held 
firmly  to  episcopacy,  not  merely  as  an  ecclesiastical  institu- 
tion, not  merely  as  a  form  of  church  government,  but  as  a  ne- 
cessary support  of  the  royal  prerogative,  and  as  a  means  of 
defending  and  maintaining  the  supremacy  of  the  king  in  mat- 
ters of  religion.  The  absolute  power  of  the  king  over  the 
body  politic,  exercised  according  to  the  forms  and  within  the 
limits  legally  acknowledged;  the  supremacy  of  the  king  as 
head  of  the  Church,  applied  and  sustained  by  the  episcopacy, 
was  the  twofold  system  of  the  legal  reform  party.  We  may 
enumerate  as  its  chiefs,  Lord  Clarendon,  Colepepper,  Capel, 
and,  though  a  more  ardent  friend  of  public  liberty,  Lord  Falk* 
land ;  and  into  their  ranks  were  enlisted  nearly  ail  the  nobili- 
ty and  gentry  not  servilely  devoted  to  the  court. 

Behind  this  party  advanced  a  second,  which  I  shall  call  the 
political-revolutionary  party ;  it  differed  from  the  foregoing, 
inasmuch  as  it  did  not  believe  the  ancient  guarantees,  the 
ancient  legal  barriers  sufficient  to  secure  the  rights  and  liber- 


civil. i/.a  Hon    in    KODB&a    ki'kope.  277 

:n  s  of  the  people.     It  saw  that  a  great  change,  a  genuine 
revolution  WU  wanting,  not  only  in  the  forms,  but  in  the  spirit 
h. i nl  essence  of  the  government ;  that  it  was  necessary  to  de- 
prive the  king  and  his  council  of  the  unlimited  power  which 
tlu  v  possessed,  and  to  place  the  preponderance  in  the  House 
of  Commons  ;  so  that  the  government  should,  in  fact,  be  in 
the  hands  of  this  assembly  and  its  leaders.     This  party  made 
no  such  open  and  systematic  profession  of  its  principles  and 
intentions  as  I  have  done ;  but  this  n-as  the  real  character  of 
its  opinions,  and  of  its  political  tendencies.     Instead  of  acv 
knowledging  the  absolute  sovereignty  of  the  king,  it  contends 
ed  for  the  sovereignty  of  the  House  of  Commons  as  the  rc-\ 
presentatives  of  the  people.     Under  this  principle  was  hid/ 
that  of  the  sovereignty  of  the  people ;    a  notion  which  the 
party  was  as  far  from  considering  in  its  full  extent,  as  it  was 
from  desiring  the  consequences  to  which  it  might  ultimately 
Load,  but  which  they  nevertheless  admitted  when  it  presented, 
itself  to  them  in  the  form  of  the  sovereignty  of  the  House  of 
Commons. 

The  religious  party  most  closely  allied  to  this  political-re^ 
volutionary  one  was  that  of  the  Presbyterians.     This  sect 
wished  to  operate  much  the  same  revolution  in  the  Church  as 
their  allies  were  endeavoring  to  effect  in  the  state.  They  de-"\ 
sired  to  erect  a  system  of  church  government  emanating  from   \ 
the  people,  and  composed  of  a  series  of  assemblies    dove- 
tilled,  as  it  were,  into  each  other ;  and  thus  to  give  to  their 
national  assembly  the  same  authority  in  ecclesiastical  matters   J 
that  their  allies  wished  to  give  in  political  to  the  House  of 
Commons  :  only  that  the  revolution  contemplated  by  the  Pres- 
byterians was  more  complete  and  daring  than  the  other,  foras- 
much as  it  aimed  at  changing  the  form  as  well  as  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  government  of  the  Church  ;  while  the  views  of 
the  political  party  went  no  farther  than  to  place  the  influence, 
the  preponderance,  in  the  body  of  the  people,  without  medi- 
cating any  great  alteration  in  the  form  of  their  institutions. 

Hence  the  leaders  of  this  political  party  were  not  all^ 
favorable  to  the  Presbyterian  organization  of  the  Church.y 
Hampden  and  Hollis,  as  well  as  some  others,  it  appears, 
would  have  given  the  preference  to  a  moderate  episcopacy, 
confined  strictly  to  ecclesiastical  functions,  with  a  greater  ex- 
tent of  liberty  of  conscience.  They  were  obliged,  however, 
to  give  way,  as  they  could  do  nothing  without  the  assistance 
of  their  fanatical  allies. 


278  GENERAL    HISTORY    OY 

A  The  thud  party,  going  much  beyond  these  two,  declared 
/  that  a  change  was  required  not  only  in  the  form,  but  also  in 
I  the  foundation  of  the  government ;  that  its  constitution  was 
I  radically  vicious  and  Dad.     This  party  paid  no  respect  to  the 
past  life  of  England ,  it  renounced  her  institutions,  it  swept 
away  all  national  remembrances,  it  threw  down  the    whole 
fabric  of  English  government,  that  it  might  build  up  another 
founded  on  pure  theory,  or  at  least  one  that  existed  only  in  ita 
own  fancy.  It  aimed  not  merely  at  a  revolution  in  the  govern- 
ment, but  at  a  complete  revolution  of  the  whole  social  system. 
/The  party  of  which  I  have  just  spoken,  the  political-re  volu- 
( tionary  party,  proposed  to  make  a  great  change  in  the  rela- 
tions in  which  the  parliament  stood  with  the  crown  ;  it  wished 
to  extend  the  power  of  the  two  houses,  particularly  of  the 
commons,  by  giving  to  it  the  nomination  of  the  great  officers 
of  state,  and  the  supreme  direction  of  affairs  in  general ;  but 
its  notions  of  reform  scarcely  went  beyond  this.     It  had  no 
idea,  for  example,  of  changing  the  electoral  system,  the  ju- 
dicial system,  the  administrative  and  municipal  systems  of  the 
country.  The  republican  party  contemplated  all  these  changes, 
/dwelt  upon  their  necessity,  wished,  in  a  word,  to  reform  not 
j  only  the  public  administration,  but  the  relations  of  society, 
\  and  the  distribution  of  private  rights. 
if  Like  the  two  preceding,  this  party  was  composed  of  a  re- 
ligious sect,  and  a  political  sect.     Its  political  portion  were 
Vthe  genuine  republicans,  the  theorists,  Ludlow,  Harrington, 
Milton,  &c.     To  these  may  be  added  the  republicans  of  cir- 
cumstance, of  interest,  such  as  the  principal  officers  of  the 
army,  Ireton,  Cromwell,  Lambert,  &c,  who  were  more  or  less 
sincere  at  the  beginning  of  their  career,  but  were  soon  con- 
trolled and  guided  by  personal  motives  and  the  force  of  cir- 
cumstances.    Under  the  banners  of  this  party  marched  the 
religious  republicans,  all  those  religious  sects  which  would 
acknowledge  no  power  as  legitimate  but  that  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  who,  awaiting  his  second  coming,  desired  only  the  govern- 
ment of  his  elect.     Finally,  in  the  train  of  this  party  followed 
i  mixed  assemblage  of  subordinate  free-thinkers,  fanatics,  and 
evellers,  some  hoping  for  license,  some  for  an  equal  distribu- 
tion of  property,  and  others  for  universal  suffrage. 


j    In  1653,  after  twelve  years  of  struggle,  all  these  parties  had 
V«uccessively  appeared  and  failed ;  they  appear  at  least  to 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE  279 

gh)  so,  and  the  public  was  sure  of  it.     The  legal  \      / 

reform  party  miickly  disappeared  ;   it  saw  the  old  constitution  1     » 
Md  laws  insulted,  trampled  under  foot,  and  innovations  forcing^/ 
their  way  00  every  side.     The  political-revolutionary  parry 
taw  die  destruction  of  parliamentary  forms  in  the  new  use 
which  it  was  proposed  to  make  of  them — it  had  seen  the 
House  of  Commons  reduced,  by  the  successive  expulsions  of 
royalists  and  Presbyterians,  to  a  few  members,  despised,  de^ 
tested  by  the  public,  and  incapable  of  governing.     The  re\ 
publican  party  appeared  to  have  succeeded  better  ;  it  seemed  \     ^ 
to  be  left  master  of  the  field  and  of  power  ;  the  House  of  Com- 
mons consisted  of  but  fifty  or  sixty  members,  all  republicans. 
They  might  fancy  themselves,  and  call  themselves,  the  rulers 
of  the  country ;  but  the  country  rejected  their  government ; 
they  were  nowhere  obeyed  ;  they  had  no  power  either  over 
the  army  or  the  nation.     No  social  bond,  no  social  security^ 
was  now  left ;  justice  was  no  longer  administered,  or  if  it  w;is, 
it  was  controlled  by  passion,  chance,  or  party     Not  only  was 
there  no  security  in  the  relations  of  private  life,  but  the  high- 
ways were  covered  with  robbers  and  companies  of  brigands. 
Anarchy  in  every  part  of  the  civil,  as  well  as  of  the  moral 
world,  prevailed  ;  and  neither  the  House  of  Commons,  nor 
the  republican  Council  of  State,  had  the  power  to  restrain  it.  I 

Thus,  the  three  great  parties  which  had  brought  about  the 
revolution,  and  which  in  their  turn  had  been  called  upon  to 
conduct  it — had  been  called  upon  to  govern  the  country  ac- 
cording to  their  principles  and  their  will — had  all  signally 
failed.     They  could  do  nothing — they  could  settle  nothing.   \ 
"  Now  it  was,"  says  Bossuet,  "  that  a  man  was  found  who 
left  nothing  to  fortune,  which  he  could  gain  by  counsel  and 
foresight ;"  a  remark  which  has  no  foundation  whatever  m 
truth,  and  which  every  part  of  history  contradicts.     No  man   , 
ever  left  more  to  fortune  than  Cromwell.   No  one  ever  risked  ' 
more — no  one  ever  pushed  forward  more  rashly,  without  de- 
sign, without  an  aim,  yet  determined  to  go  as  far  as  fate  would 
carry  him.  Unbounded  ambition,  and  admirable  tact  for  draw- 
ing from  every  day,  from  every  circumstance,  some  new  pro- 
gress— the  art  of  profiting  by  fortune  without  seeming  ever  to 
possess  the  desire  to  constrain  it,  formed  the  character  of  i 
Cromwell.     In  one  particular  his  career  was  singular,  and'' 
lifters  from  that  of  every  individual  with  whom  we  are  apt  to 
compare  him:  he  adapted  himself  to  all  the  various  changes, 


280  GENERAL    HISTORY    CF 

numerous  as  they  were,  as  well  as  to  the  state  of  things  they 
led  to,  of  the  revolution.  He  appears  a  prominent  character 
n  every  scene,  from  the  rise  of  the  curtain  to  the  close  of  the 
piece.  He  was  now  the  instigator  of  the  insurrection — now 
the  abetter  of  anarchy— now  the  most  fiery  of  the  revolutionists 
— now  the  restorer  of  order  and  social  re-organization  ;  thu? 
playing  himself  all  the  principal  parts  which,  in  the  common 
run  of  revolutions,  are  usually  distributed  among  the  greatest 
actors.  He  was  not  a  Mirabeau,  for  he  failed  in  eloquence, 
and,  though  very  active,  he  made  no  great  figure  in  the  first 
years  of  the  long  parliament.  But  he  was  successively  Dan- 
ion  and  Bonaparte.  Cromwell  didjaQre  than  anyjme  to 
overthrow  authority;  he  raised  it  up  again,  because  there  wx»s 
no  other  than  he  that  could  take  it  and  manage  it.  The  coun- 
try required  a  ruler  ;  all  others  failed,  and  he  succeeded.  This 
was  his  title.  Once  master  of  the  government,  Cromwell, 
whose  boundless  ambition  had  exerted  itself  so  vigorously, 
who  had  so  constantly  pushed  fortune  before  him,  and  seemed 
determined  never  to  stop  in  his  career,  displayed  a  good  sense, 
a  prudence,  a  knowledge  of  how  much  was  possible,  which 
overruled  his  most  violent  passions.  There  can  be  no  doubt 
of  his  extreme  fondness  for  absolute  power,  nor  of  his  desire 
to  place  the  crown  upon  his  own  head  and  keep  it  in  his  fami- 
ly. He  saw  the  peril  of  this  latter  design  and  renounced  it ; 
and  though,  in  fact,  he  did  exercise  absolute  authority,  he  saw 
very  well  that  the  spirit  of  the  times  would  not  bear  it ;  that 
the  revolution  which  he  had  helped  to  bring  about,  which  he 
had  followed  through  all  its  phases,  had  been  directed  against 
despotism,  and  that  the  uncontrollable  will  of  England  was  to 
be  governed  by  a  parliament  and  parliamentary  forms.     He 

(endeavored,  therefore,  despot  as  he  was,  by  taste  and  by 
deeds,  to  govern  by  a  parliament.  For  this  purpose  he  had 
recourse  to  all  the  various  parties ;  he  tried  to  form  a  parlia- 
/ment  from  the  religious  enthusiasts,  from  the  republicans,  from 
Mhe  Presbyterians,  and  from  the  officers  of  the  army.  He 
tried  every  means  to  obtain  a  parliament  able  and  willing  to 
take  part  with  him  in  the  government ;  but  he  tried  in  vain  ; 
every  party,  the  moment  it  was  seated  in  St.  Stephen's,  en- 
deavored to  wrest  from  him  the  authority  which  he  exercised, 
and  to  rule  in  its  turn.  I  do  not  mean  to  deny  that  his  per- 
sonal interest,  the  gratification  of  his  darling  ambition  was  his 
tirsu  care ;  but  it  is  no  less  certain  that  if  he  had  abdicated 
his  authority  one  day,  he  would  have  been  obliged  to  resume 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN     KUROIT..  281 

the  next.  Puritans  or  royalists,  republicans  or  officers,  then  \ 
was  HO  one  but  Cromwell  who  \vas  in  a  state  at  this  time  tcVy 
m>\  em  with  any  thing  like  order  or  justice.     The  experiment 
had  been  made.     It  seemed  absurd  to  think  of  leaving  to  par 
liaments,  that  is  to  say,  to  the  faction  sitting  in  parliament,  u 
government  which  it  could  not  maintain.     {Such  -vas  the  ex- 
traordinary situation  ot  Cromwell:  he  governed  by  a  system 
which  he  knew  very  well  was  foreign  and  hateful  to  the  coun- 
try, he  exercised  an  authority  which  was  acknowledged  ne- 
cessary by  all,  but  which  was  acceptable  to  none.     No  partyA 
looked    upon   his    domination    as    a   definitive    government. 
Royalists,  Presbyterians,  republicans,  even  the  army  itself,   / 
which  appears  to  have  been  the  party  most  devoted  to  Crom-/ 
well,  all  looked  upon  his  rule  as  transitory.     He  had  no  hola 
upon  the  affections  of  the  people  ;  lie  was  never  more  than  a 
pis-aller,  a  last  resort,  a  temporary  necessity.     The  protector> 
the  absolute  master  of  England,  was  obliged  all  his  life  to 
nave  recourse  to  force  to  preserve  his  power  ;  no  party  could 
govern  so  well  as  he,  but  no  party  liked  to  see  the  govern- 
ment in  his  hands  ;  he  was  repeatedly  attacked  by  them  al! 
at  once. 

Upon  Cromwell's  death,  there  was  no  party  in  a  situatiori\ 
to  seize  upon  the  government  except  the  republicans  ;  they  \ 
did  seize  upon  it,  but  with  no  better  success  than  before.  This    1 
happened  from  no  lack  of  confidence,  at  least,  in  the  enthu^/ 
siasts  of  the  party.     A  spirited  and  talented  tract,  published 
at  this  juncture  by  Milton,  is  entitled  "  A  Ready  and  Easy 
Way  to  establish  a  free  Commonwealth."     You  may  judge  ol 
the  blindness  of  these  men,  who  soon  fell  into  a  state  which 
showed  that  it  was  quite  as  impossible  for  them  to  carry  on 
the  government  now  as  it  had  been  before.     Monk  undertook  "\ 
the  direction  of  that  event  which  all  England  now  seemed  1 
anxious  for.     The  Restoration  was  accomplished 

The  restoration  of  the  Stuarts  was  an  event  general!/  \ 
oleasing  to  the  nation.  It  brought  back  a  government  which  / 
still  dwelt  in  its  memory,  which  was  founded  upon  its  anciem 
:raditions,  while,  at  the  same  time,  it  had  some  of  the  advan- 
tages of  a  new  government,  in  that  it  had  not  recently  been 
tried,  in  that  its  faults  and  its  power  had  not  lately  been  fell. 
The  ancient  monarchy  was  the  only  system  of  govcrnnn  in 


2S2  GENERAL    HISTORY    O* 

which  had  not  ^een  decried,  within  the  last  twenty  years,  fo- 
its  abuses  and  want  of  capacity  in  the  administration  of  the 
affairs  of  the  kingdom.     From  these  two  causes  the  restora- 
tion was  extremely  popular  ;  it  was  unopposed  by  any  but  the 
dregs  of  the  most  violent  factions,  while  the  public  rallied 
round  it  with  great  sincerity.  All  parties  in  the  country  seem 
/"ed  now  to  believe  that  this  offered  the  only  chance  left  of  a 
|    stable  and  legal  government,  and  this  was  what,  above  all 
I   things,  the  nation  now  desired.     This  also  was  what  the  res- 
toration seemed  especially  to  promise  ;  it  took  much  pains  to 
present  itself  under  the  aspect  of  legal  government. 

The  first  royalist  party,  indeed,  to  whom,  upon  the  return 
of  Charles  the  Second,  the  management  of  affairs  was  intrust- 
ed, was  the  legal  party,  represented  by  its  able  leader,  the 
Lord  Chancellor  Clarendon.  From  1660  to  1667,  Clarendon 
was  prime  minister,  and  had  the  chief  direction  of  affairs  :  he 
and  his  friends  brought  back  with  them  their  ancient  prin- 
ciples of  government,  the  absolute  sovereignty  of  the  king, 
kept  within  legal  bounds,  limited  by  the  House  of  Commons 
as  regards  taxation,  by  the  public  tribunals,  in  matters  of  pri- 
vate right,  or  relating  to  individual  liberty, — possessing,  never- 
theless, in  point  of  government,  properly  so  called,  an  almost 
complete  independence,  and  the  most  decided  preponderance, 
to  the  exclusion  or  even  in  opposition  to  the  votes  of  the  ma- 
jorities of  the  two  houses,  but  particularly  to  that  of  the  House 
of  Commons.  In  other  matters  there  was  not  much  to  com- 
plain of:  a  tolerable  degree  of  respect  was  paid  to  legal 
order ;  there  was  a  tolerable  degree  of  solicitude  for  the  na- 
tional interests  ;  a  sufficiently  noble  sentiment  of  national  dig- 
nity was  preserved,  and  a  color  of  morality  that  was  grave 
and  honorable.  Such  was  the  character  of  Clarendon's  ad- 
ministration, during  the  seven  years  the  government  was  com- 

'   mitted  to  his  charge 

/""  But  the  fundamental  principles  upon  which  this  adminis- 
tration was  based — the  absolute  sovereignty  of  the  king,  and 
a  government  beyond  the  preponderating  control  of  parliament 
— were  now  become  old  and  powerless.  Notwithstanding  the 
temporary  reaction  which  took  place  at  the  first  burst  of  the 
restoration,  twenty  years  of  parliamentary  rule  against  royalty 

(had  destroyed  them  for  ever.  A  new  party  soon  showed  it\ 
self  among  the  royal )sts  ;  libertines,  profligates,  wretches \ 
who,  imbued  with  the  iY'e  opinions  of  the  times,  and  seeing) 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROi'K.  283 

that  power  Ml  wiih  the  commons, — caring  themselvrs  hut 
little  ahout  legal  order,  or  the  absolute  power  of  the  king, — 
were  only  anxious  for  success,  and  to  discover  the  means  of 
influence  and  power  in  whatever  quarter  they  were  likely  tc 
be  found.  These  formed  a  party,  and  allying  themselves  withN 
the  national,  discontented  party,  Clarendon  was  discarded.    J 

A  new  system  of  government  now  took  place  under  that 
portion  of  the  royalists  I  have  just  described  ;  profligates  and 
libertines  formed  the  administration  of  the  Cabal,  and  several  y 
others  which  followed  it.  '  What  was  their  character  ?  With- 
out inquietude  respecting  principles,  laws,  or  rights,  or  care 
for  justice  or  truth  ;  they  sought  the  means  of  success  upon 
every  occasion,  whatever  these  means  might  be  ;  if  success 
depended  on  the  influence  of  the  commons,  the  commons 
were  everything  ;  if  it  was  necessary  to  cajole  the  commons, 
the  commons  were  cajoled  without  scruple,  even  though  they 
had  to  apologize  to  them  the  next  day.  At  one  moment  they 
attempted  corruption,  at  another  they  flattered  the  national 
wishes  ;  no  regard  was  shown  for  the  general  interests  of  the 
country,  for  its  dignity  or  its  honor ;  in  a  word,  it  was  a  gov- 
ernment profoundly  selfish  and  immoral,  totally  unacquainted 
with  all  theory,  principle,  or  public  object ;  but,  withal,  in  the 
practical  management  of  affairs,  showing  considerable  intelli- 
gence and  liberality.  Such  was  the  character  of  the  CabaA 
ministry,  of  Earl  Danby's,  and  of  the  English  government  J 
from  1C67  to  1679.  Yet  notwithstanding  its  immorality,  not\ 
withstanding  its  disdain  of  all  principle,  and  of  the  true  inter- 
ests of  the  country,  this  government  was  not  so  unpopular 
not  so  odious  to  the  nation  as  that  of  Clarendon ;  and  this 
simply  because  it  adapted  itself  better  to  the  times,  better  un- 
derstood the  sentiments  of  the  people,  even  while  it  derided 
them.  It  was  neither  foreign  nor  antiquated,  like  that  of  I 
Clarendon;  and  though  infinitely  more  dangerous  to  the  coun-J 
'ry,  the  people  accommodated  themselves  better  to  it. 

But  this  corruption,  this  servility,  this  contempt  of  public 
tights  and  public  honor,  were  at  last  carried  to  such  a  pitch 
hh  to  be  no  longer  supportable.  A  general  outcry  was  raised 
against  this  government  of  r  obligates.  A  patriotic  party,  sup- 
ported by  the  nation,  became  gradually  formed  in  the  House 
of  Commons,  and  the  king  was  obliged  to  take  the  leaders  of 
a  into  his  council.     Lord  Essex,  the  son  of  him  who  had  com  J 


284  GENERAL    HISTORY    OP 

manded  the  first  parliamentary  armies  in  the  civil  war,  Lord 
Russel,  and  Lord  Shaftesbury,  who,  without  any  of  the  vir- 

/  tues  of  the  other  two,  was  much  their  superior  in  political 
abilities,  were  new  called  to  the  management  of  affairs.  The 
national  party,  to  whom  the  direction  of  the  government  was 
now  committed  proved  itself  unequal  to  the  task :  it  could 
not  gain  possession  of  the  moral  force  of  the  country :  it  could 
neither  manage  the  interests,  the  habits,  nor  the  prejudices 
of  the  king,  of  the  court,  nor  of  any  with  whom  it  had  to  do 
It  inspired  no  party,  either  king  or  people,  with  any  confi- 
dence in  its  energy  or  ability ;  and  after  holding  power  for  a 
short  time,  this  national  ministry  completely  failed.     The 

/virtues  of  its  leaders,  their  generous  courage,  the  beauty  of 
their  death,  have  raised  them  to  a  distinguished  niche  in  the 
temple  of  fame,  and  entitled  them  to  honorable  mention  in  the 
page  of  history  ;  but  their  political  capacities  in  no  way  cor- 
responded to  their  virtues  :  they  could  not  wield  power,  though 
they  could  withstand  its  corrupting  influence,  nor  could  they 
achieve  a  triumph  for  that  glorious  cause,  for  which  they  could 
so  nobly  die ! 

The  failure  of  this  attempt  left  the  English  restoration  in 
rather  an  awkward  plight ;  it  had,  like  the  English  revolution, 
in  a  manner  tried  all  parties  without  success.  The  legal 
ministry,  the  corrupt  ministry,  the  national  ministry,  having 
all  failed,  the  country  and  the  court  were  nearly  in  the  same 
situation  as  that  which  England  had  been  in  before,  at  the  close 
of  the  revolutionary  troubles  in  1653.  Recourse  was  had  to 
the  same  expedient :  what  Cromwell  had  turned  to  the  profit 
of  the  revolution,  Charles  II.  now  turned  to  the  profit  of  the 
crown  ;  he  entered  upon  a  career  of  absolute  power. 


j    james  II.  succeeded  his  brother  ;  and  another  question  now 

/  became  mixed  up  with  that  of  despotism  :  the  question  of  re 

I  ligion.     James  II.  wished  to  achieve,  at  the  same  time,  a 

\  triumph  for  popery  and  for  absolute  power :  now  again,  as  at 

j   the  commencement  of  the  revolution,  there  was  a  religious 

\  struggle  and  a  political  struggle,  and  both  were  directed  against 

vihe  government.     It  has  often  been  asked,  what  course  affairs 

would  have  taken  if  William  III.  had  not  existed,  and  come 

over  to  put  an  end  to  the  quarrel  between  James  and  the  peo- 

plo.     My  firm  belief  is  that  the  same  event  would  have  taken 


CIVILIZATION    IN'    MODERN   EFROPE.  285 

olaco.  A!I  England,  except  a  very  small  part)',  was  at  this  J 
time  arrayed  against  James  ;  and  it  seems  very  certain,  that, 
under  some  form  or  other,  the  revolution  of  1688  must  have 
been  accomplished.  But  at  this  crisis,  causes  even  superior 
to  the  internal  state  of  England  conduced  to  this  event.  It 
was  European  as  well  as  English.  It  is  at  this  point  that  the 
English  revolution  links  itself,  by  facts,  and  independently  of 
the  influence  of  its  example,  to  the  general  course  of  European 
civilization. 

While  the  struggle  which  I  have  just  been  narrating  took 
place  in  England,  the  struggle  of  absolute  power  against  re- 
ligious and  civil  liberty — a  struggle  of  the  same  kind,  however 
different  the  actors,  the  forms,  and  the  theatre,  took  place  upon 
the  continent — a  struggle  which  was  at  bottom  the  same,  and 
carried  on  in  the  same  cause.  The  pure  monarchy  of  Louis 
XIV.  attempted  to  become  universal  monarchy,  at  least  it 
gave  the  world  every  reason  to  fear  it ;  and,  in  fact,  Europe 
did  fear  it.  A  league  was  formed  in  Europe  between  various 
political  parties  to  resist  this  attempt,  and  the  chief  of  this 
league  was  the  chief  of  the  party  that  struggled  for  the  civil 
and  religious  liberty  of  Europe — William,  Prince  of  Orange. 
The  Protestant  republic  of  Holland,  with  William  at  its  head, 
had  made  a  stand  against  pure  monarchy,  represented  and 
conducted  by  Louis  XIV.  The  fight  here  was  not  for  civil 
and  religious  liberty  in  the  interior  of  states,  but  for  the  in- 
terior independence  of  the  states  themselves.  Louis  XIV. 
and  his  adversaries  never  thought  of  debating  the  questions 
which  were  debated  so  fiercely  in  England.  This  struggle"") 
was  not  one  of  parties,  but  of  states  ;  it  was  carried  on,  not 
by  political  outbreaks  and  revolutions,  but  by  war  and  nego- 
'iation  ;  still,  at  bottom,  the  same  principle  was  the  subject 
of  contention. 

It  happened,  then,  that  the  strife  between  absolute  powei\ 
and  liberty,  which  James  II.  renewed  in  England,  broke  out  J 
at  the  very  moment  that  this  general  struggle  was  going  on 
in  Europe  between  Louis  XIV.  and  the  Prince  of  Orange, 
the  representatives  of  these  two  great  systems,  as  well  in  tht 
affairs  which  took  place  on  the  Thames  ns«*n  the  Scheldt. 
The  league  against  Louis  was  so  powerful  that  many  sover- 
eigns entered  into  it,  either  publicly,  or  in  an  underhand, 
though  very  effective  manner,  who  were  rather  opposed  than 


286  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF    CIVILIZATION. 

not  to  the  interests  of  civil  and  religious  liberty.  The  Em 
peror  of  Germany  and  Innocent  XI.  both  supported  William 
against  France.  And  William  crossed  the  channel  to  Eng« 
land  less  to  Serve  the  internal  interests  of  the  country,  than 
to  draw  it  entirely  into  the  struggle  against  Louis.  He  laid 
hold  of  this  kingdom  as  a  new  force  which  he  wanted,  but 
of  which  his  adversary  had  had  the  disposal,  up  to  this  time, 
against  him.     So  long  as  Charles  II.  and  James  II.  reigned, 

(England  belonged  to  Louis  XIV. ;  he  had  the  disposal  of  it; 

ymd  had  kept  it  employed  against  Holland.  England  then 
was  snatched  from  the  side  of  absolute  and  universal  monai  - 
chy,  to  become  the  most  powerful  support  and  instrument  of 
civil  and  religious  liberty.  This  is  the  view  which  must  be 
taken,  as  regards  European  civilization,  of  the  revolution  of 
1688 ;  it  is  this  which  gives  it  a  place  in  the  assemblage  o! 
European  events,  independently  of  the  influence  of  its  exam- 
ple, and  of  the  vast  effect  which  it  had  upon  the  minds  and 
opinions  of  men  in  the  following  century. 

Thus,  I  think,  I  have  rendered  it  clear,  that  the  true  sense, 
the  essential  character  of  this  revolution  is,  as  I  said  at  the 
outset  of  this  lecture,  an  attempt  to  abolish  absolute  power  in 
the  temporal  order,  as  had  already  been  done  in  the  spiritual. 
This  fact  appears  in  all  the  phases  of  the  revolution,  from  its 
first  outbreak  to  the  restoration,  and  again  in  the  crisis  of 
1688  :  and  this  not  only  as  regards  its  interior  progress,  but 
in  its  relations  with  Europe  in  general. 

It  now  only  remains  for  us  to  study  the  same  great  event 
me  struggle  of  free  inquiry  and  pure  monarchy,  upon  the  con 
tinent,  or  at  least  the  causes  and  preparation  of  this  event 
This  will  be  the  object  of  the  next  an^3  final  lecture 


LECTURE   XIV 

THE    FRENCH    REVOLUTION. 

1  endeavored,  at  our  last  meeting,  to  ascertain  the  true 
character  and  political  object  of  the  English  revolution.  We 
have  seen  that  it  was  the  first  collision  ot-the  two  greet  facts 
to  which,  in  the  course  of  the  sixteenth  century,  all  the  civil- 
ization of  primitive  Europe  tended, — monarchy  on  the  one 
hand,  and  free  inquiry  on  the  other.  These  two  powers 
came  to  blows,  if  I  may  use  the  expression,  for  the  first  time 
in  England.  It  has  been  attempted,  from  this  circumstance, 
to  deduce  a  radical  difference  between  the  social  state  of 
England  and  that  of  the  Continent ;  it  has  been  contended, 
that  no  comparison  could  be  made  between  countries  so  dif- 
ferently situated ;  and  it  has  been  affirmed,  that  the  English 
people  had  lived  in  a  sort  of  moral  separation  from  the  rest 
of  Kurope,  analogous  to  its  physical  insulation. 

It  is  true  that  between  the  civilization  of  England,  and  that 
of  the  continental  states,  there  has  been  a  material  difference 
which  it  is  important  that  we  should  rightly  understand.  You 
have  already  had  a  glimpse  of  it  in  the  course  of  these  lec- 
tures. The  development  of  the  different  principles,  the  dif- 
ferent elements  of  society,  took  place,  in  some  measure,  at 
the  same  time,  at  least  much  more  simultaneously  than  upon 
the  Continent.  When  I  endeavored  to  determine  the  com- 
plexion of  European  civilization  as  compared  with  the  civili- 
zation of  ancient  and  Asiatic  nations,  I  showed  that  the  former 
was  varied,  rich,  and  complex,  and  that  it  had  never  fallen 
under  the  influence  of  any  exclusive  principle  ;  that,  in  it,  the 
different  elements  of  the  social  state  had  combined,  contended 
with,  and  modified  each  other,  and  had  continually  been 
obliged  to  come  to  an  accommodation,  and  to  subsist  together. 
This  fact,  which  forms  the  general  character  of  European 
civilization,  has  in  an  especial  manner  been  that  of  the  civili- 
zation of  England  ;  it  is  in  that  country  that  it  has  appeared 
most  evidently  and  uninterruptedly ;  it  is  there  that  the  civil 


288  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

and  religious  orders,  aristocracy,  democracy,  monarchy,  local 
and  central  institutions,  moral  and  political  development,  have 
proceeded  and  grown  up  together,  if  not  with  equal  rapidity 
at  least  but  at  a  little  distance  from  each  other.  Under  the 
reign  of  the  Tudors,  for  example,  in  the  midst  of  the  most  re- 
markable progress  of  pure  monarchy,  we  have  seen  the  dem- 
ocratic principle,  the  popular  power,  make  its  way  and  gain 
strength  almost  at  the  same  time.  The  revolution  of  the 
seventeenth  century  broke  out ;  it  was  at  the  same  time  re- 
^  ligious  and  political.  The  feudal  aristocracy  appeared  in  it 
in  a  very  enfeebled  state,  and  with  all  the  symptoms  of  decay , 
it  was,  however,  still  in  a  condition  to  preserve  its  place  in 
this  revolution,  and  to  have  some  share  in  its  results.  The 
same  thing  has  been  the  case  in  the  whole  course  of  English 
history ;  no  ancient  element  has  ever  entirely  perished,  nor 
any  new  element  gained  a  total  ascendency ;  no  particular 
principle  has  ever  obtained  an  exclusive  influence  There 
has  always  been  a  simultaneous  development  of  the  different 
forces,  and  a  sort  of  negotiation  or  compromise  between  theit 
pretensions  and  interests. 


( 


On  the  continent  the  march  of  civilization  had  been  less 
omplex  and  complete.  The  different  elements  of  society, 
the  civil  and  religious  orders,  monarchy,  aristocracy,  democ- 
racy, have  developed  themselves,  not  together,  and  abreast,  as 
it  were,  but  successively.  Every  principle,  every  system, 
has  in  some  measure  had  its  turn.  One  age,  for  example,  has 
belonged,  I  shall  not  say  exclusively,  but  with  a  decided  pre- 
dominance, to  the  feudal  aristocracy ;  another  to  the  principle 
of  monarchy ;  another  to  the  principle  of  democracy.  Com- 
pare the  middle  ages  in  France,  with  the  middle  ages  in  Eng- 
land ;  the  eleventh,  twelfth,  and  thirteenth  centuries  of  our 
history  with  the  corresponding  centuries  on  the  other  side  of 
the  channel ;  you  will  find  in  France,  at  that  epoch,  feudalism 
in  a  state  of  almost  absolute  sovereignty,  while  monarchy  and 
the  democratic  principle  scarcely  had  an  existence.  But  turn 
to  England,  and  you  will  find,  that  although  the  feudal  aris- 
tocracy greatly  predominated,  that  monarchy  and  democracy 
d  possessed,  at  the  same  time,  strength  and  importance.  Mon 
/  archy  triumphed  in  England  under  Elizabeth,  as  in  Franco 
J  under  Louis  XIV. ;  but  what  precautions  it  was  constrained 
to  take  !  how  many  restrictions,  sometimes  aristocratic,  some- 
times democratic,  it  was  obliged  to  submit  to!     In   England 


CIVILIZATION'    IK    MODERN    EUROPE.  289 

every  system,  every  principle,  has  had  its  time  of  strength  f 
uccess  ;  but  never  so  completely  Bad  exclusively  as  on  V 
the  continent :  the  conqueror  lias  always  been  constrained  to 
tolerate  the  presence  of  his  rivals,  and  to  leave  them  a  certain  ' 
rdiare  of  influence. 

To  this  difference  in  the  march  of  these  two  civilizations 
there  are  attached  advantages  and  inconveniences  which  are 
apparent  in  the  history  of  the  two  countries.  There  is  no? 
doubt,  for  example,  that  the  simultaneous  development  of  thq 
different  social  elements  has  greatly  contributed  to  make  Eng- 
land arrive  more  quickly  than  any  of  the  continental  states,  at 
the  end  and  aim  of  all  society,  that  is  to  say,  the  establish- 
ment of  a  government  at  once  regular  and  free.  It  is  the 
very  nature  of  a  government  to  respect  all  the  interests,  all 
the  powers  of  the  state,  to  conciliate  them  and  make  them 
live  and  prosper  in  common :  now  such  was,  beforehand,  and 
by  the  concurrence  of  a  multitude  of  causes,  the  despotism 
and  mutual  relation  of  the  different  elements  of  English  so- 
ciety;  and,  therefore,  a  general  and  somewhat  regular  govern- 
ment had  the  less  difficulty  in  establishing  itself.  In  like 
manner  the  essence  of  liberty  is  the  simultaneous  manifesta- 
tion and  action  of  every  interest,  every  kind  of  right,  every 
force,  every  social  element.  England.,  therefore,  had  made  a 
nearer  approach  to  liberty  than  most  other  states.  From  the 
same  causes,  national  good  sense  and  intelligence  of  public 
affairs  must  have  formed  themselves  more  quickly  than  else- 
where ;  political  good  sense  consists  in  understanding  and 
appreciating  every  fact,  and  in  assigning  to  each  its  proper 
part ;  in  England  it  has  been  a  necessary  consequence  of 
the  state  of  society  a  natural  result  of  the  course  of  civili- 
zation. 

In  the  states  of  the  Continent,  on  the  contrary,  every  sys- 
tem, every  principle,  having  had  its  turn,  and  having  had  a 
more  complete  and  exclusive  ascendency,  the  development 
i.ook  place  on  a  larger  scale,  and  with  more  striking  circum- 
stances. Monarchy  and  feudal  aristocracy,  for  example,  ap- 
peared on  the  continental  stage  with  more  boldness,  extent, 
and  freedom.  Every  political  experiment,  so  to  speak,  was 
broader  and  more  complete.  The  result  was,  that  political 
ideas — I  speak  of  general  ideas,  and  not  of  good  sense 
applied  to  the  conduct  of  affairs  ;  that  political  ideas  and  doc- 
rrines  took  a  greater  elevation,  and  displayed  themselves  with 

13 


290  OENERAL    HISTORV    OF 

much  greater  lational  vigor.     Every  system  having,  in  some 
sort,  presented  itself  singly,  and  having  remained  a  long  time 
on  the  stage,  people  could  contemplate  it  in  its  general  aspect 
ascend  to  its  first  principles,  pursue  it  into  its  remotest  conse- 
jquences,  and  lay  bare  its  entire  theory.     Whoever  observes 
|  with  some  degree  of  attention  the  genius  of  the  English  na- 
/  tiontf  will  be  struck  with  a  double  fact ;  on  the  one  hand,  its 
(    steady  good  sense  and  practical  ability ;  on  the  other,  its  want 
J    of  general  ideas,  and  of  elevation  of  thought  upon  theoretical 
V^  questions.     Whether  we  open  an  English  work  on  history, 
jurisprudence,  or  any  other  subject,  we  rarely  find  the  great 
and  fundamental  reason  of  things.     In  every  subject,  and  es- 
pecially in  the  political  sciences,  pure  philosophical  doctrines 
— science  properly  so  called — have  prospered  much  more  on 
the  continent,  than  in  England  ;  their  flights,  at  least,  have 
Jbeen  bolder  and  more  vigorous.     Indeed,  it  cannot  be  doubted 
/  that  the  different  character  of  the  development  of  civilization 
V  in  the  two  countries  has  greatly  contributed  to  this  result.  • 
At  all  events,  whatever  may  be  thought  of  the  inconvenien- 
ces or  advantages  which  have  been  produced  by  this  differ- 
ence, it  is  a  real  and  incontestable  fact,  and  that  which  most 
essentially  distinguishes  England  from  the  Continent.     But, 
though  the  different  principles,  the  different  social  elements 
have  developed  themselves  more  simultaneously  there,  and 
more  successively  in  France,  it  does  not  follow  that,  at  bot- 
tom, the  road  and  the  goal  have  not  been  the  same.     Con- 
sidered generally,  the   continent  and   England   have    gone 
through  the  same  great  phases  of  civilization  ;  events  have 
followed  the  same  course  ;  similar  causes  have  led  to  similar 
^effects.     You  may  have  convinced  yourselves  of  this  by  the 
view  I  have  given  you  of  civilization  down  to  the  sixteenth 
century ;  you  will  remark  it  *no  less  in  studying  the  seven- 
teenth and  eighteenth  centuries.     The  development  of  free  in- 
quiry, and  that  of  pure  monarchy,  almost   simultaneous   in 
England,  were  accomplished  on  the  Continent  at  pretty  long 
intervals  ;  but  they  were  accomplished ;  and  these  two  pow- 
ers, after  having  successively  exercised  a  decided  predomi- 
nance, came  also  into  collision.     The  general  march  of  so- 
ciety, then,  on  the  whole,  has  been  the  same  ;  and,  though 
the  differences  are  real,  the  resemblance  is  still  greater.     A 
rapid  sketch  of  modern  times  will  leave  you  no  doubt  on  this 
subject. 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EUROPE.  291 

The  moment  we  cast  our  eyes  on  the  history  of  Europe  It 
the  terenteenth  and  eighteenth  centuries,  wo  cannot  fail  tc 
perceive  that  France  marches  at  the  head  of  European  civil' 
ration.  At  the  beginning  of  this  course,  I  strongly  affirmed 
this  fact,  and  endeavored  to  point  out  its  cause.  We  shall 
now  find  it  more  strikingly  displayed  than  it  has  ever  been 
before 

The  principle  of  pure  and  absclutc  monarchy  had  predomi- 
nated in  Spain,  under  Charles  Y.  and  Philip  II.,  before  its 
development  in  France  under  Louis  XIV.  In  like  manner 
the  principle  of  free  inquiry  had  reigned  in  England  in  the 
seventeenth  century,  before  its  development  in  France  in  the 
eighteenth.  Pure  monarchy,  however,  did  not  go  forth  froin\ 
Spain,  nor  free  inquiry  from  England,  to  make  the  conquesy 
of  Europe.  The  two  principles  or  systems  remained,  in  some 
sort,  confined  within  the  countries  in  which  they  sprang  up 
They  required  to  pass  through  France  to  extend  their  do- 
minion ;  pure  monarchy  and  liberty  of  inquiry  were  compelled 
to  become  French  before  they  could  become  European.  That 
communicative  character  of  French  civilization,  that  social 
genius  of  France,  which  has  displayed  itself  at  every  period, 
was  peculiarly  conspicuous  at  the  period  which  now  engages 
our  attention.  I  shall  not  dwell  upon  this  fact ;  it  has  been 
expounded  to  you,  with  equal  force  of  argument  and  brillian- 
cy, in  the  lectures  in  which  your  attention  has  been  directed 
to  the  influence  of  the  literature  and  philosophy  of  France  in 
the  eighteenth  century.  You  have  seen  how  the  philosophy 
of  France  had,  in  regard  to  liberty,  more  influence  on  Europe 
than  the  liberty  of  England.  You  have  seen  how  French 
civilization  showed  itself  much  more  active  and  contagious 
than  that  of  any  other  country.  I  have  no  occasion,  there- 
fore, to  dwell  upon  the  details  of  this  fact ;  I  avail  myself  of 
it  only  in  order  to  make  it  my  ground  for  making  France  com- 
prehend the  picture  of  modern  European  civilization.  There 
were,  no  doubt,  between  French  civilization  at  this  period, 
and  that  of  the  other  states  of  Europe,  differences  on  which 
I  ought  to  lay  great  stress,  if  it  were  my  intention  at  preeent 
to  enter  fully  into  this  subject ;  but  I  must  proceed  so  rapidly, 
that  I  am  obliged  to  pass  over  whole  nations,  and  whole  ages. 
I  think  it  better  to  confine  your  attention  to  the  course  of 
French  civilization,  as  being  an  image,  though  an  imperfect 
'me,  of  the  general  course  of  things  in  Europe. 

The  influence  of  France  in  Europe,  in  the  seventeenth  and 


292  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

eighteenth  centuries,  appears  under  very  different  aspects.  In 
the  first  of  these  centuries,  it  was  the  French  government 

(which  acted  upon  Europe,  and  took  the  lead  in  the  march  of 
general  civilization.  In  the  second,  it  was  no  longer  to  the 
French  government,  but  to  the  Frencn  society,  to  France  her- 
self, that  the  preponderance  belonged.  It  was  at  first  Louis 
XIV.  and  his  court,  and  then  France  herself,  and  her  public 
opinion,  that  attracted  the  attention,  and  swayed  the  minds  01 
the  rest  of  Europe.  There  were,  in  the  seventeenth  century 
nations,  who,  as  such,  made  a  more  prominent  appearance  on 
the  stage,  and  took  a  greater  share  in  the  course  of  events, 
than  the  French  nation.     Thus,  during  the  thirty  years'  war, 

rthe  German  nation,  and  the  revolution  of  England,  the  Eng- 
lish nation  played,  within  their  respective  spheres,  a  much 
greater  part  than  the  French  nation,  at  that  period,  played 
within  theirs.  In  the  eighteenth  century,  in  like  mannei, 
there  were  stronger,  more  respected,  and  more  formidahb 
governments  than  that  of  France.  There  is  no  doubt  that 
Frederick  II.  and  Maria  Theresa  had  more  activity  and  weight 
in  Europe  than  Louis  XV.  Still,  at  both  of  these  periods, 
France  was  at  the  head  of  European  civilization,  first  through 
her  government,  and  afterwards  through  herself ;  at  one  time 
through  the  political  action  of  her  rulers,  at  another  through 
ner  own  intellectual  development.  To  understand  thoroughly 
the  predominant  influence  on  the  course  of  civilization  in 
France,  and  consequently  in  Europe,  we  must  therefore  study, 
in  the  seventeenth  century,  the  French  government,  and  in 
the  eighteenth,  the  French  nation.     We  must   change   our 

(ground  and  our  objects  of  view,  according  as  time  changes 
the  scene  and  the  actors. 

f     Whenever  the  government  of  Louis  XIV.  is   spoken  of, 
'    whenever  we  attempt  to  appreciate  the  causes  of  his  power 

and  influence  in  Europe,  we  have  little  to  consider  beyond 
\  his  splendor,  his  conquests,  his  magnificence,  and  the  literary 
\  glory  of  his  time.     We  must  resort  to  exterior  causes  in  order 

to  account  for  the  preponderance  of  the  French  government 

in  Europe. 

But  this  preponderance,  in  my  opinion,  was  derived  from 

causes  more  deeply  seated,  from  motives  of  a  more  serious 
f  kind.  We  must  not  believe  that  it  was  entirely  by  means  of 
(   victories,  festivals,  or  even  master- pieces  of  genius,  that  Louif 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN     EUROPE.  'MS 

XIV.  and  his  gOTenimenI  played,  at  that  period,  the  part  which  J 
DO  OH*  can  deny  them.  .^ 

Many  of  you  may  remember,  and  all  of  you  have  heard  ofYv 
the  effect  which,  twenty-nine  years  ago,  was  produced  by  the  / 
consular  government  in   France,  and  the  state   in  which  it 
found  our  country.     Abroad,  foreign  invasion  impending,  and 
continual  disasters  in  our  armies  ;  at  home,  the  elements  of 
government  and  society  in  a  state  of  dissolution  ;  no  revenues, 
no  public  order  ;  in  short,  a  people  beaten,  humbled,  and  dis- 
organized— such  was  France  at  the  accession  of  the  consu- 
lar government.     Who  is  there  that  does  not  remember  tbr\ 
prodigious  and  successful  activity  of  that  gc\er.nment,  an  ac-  J 
tivity  which,  in  a  short  time,  secured  the   independence  of/ 
our  territory,  revived  our  national  honor,  re-organized  the  :v\- 
ministration  of  government,  re-moddled  our   legislation,   in 
short,  gave  society,  as  it  were,  a  new  life  under  the  hand  of 


nower 


Well — the  government  of  Louis  XIV.,  when  it  began,  did 
something  of  the  same  kind  for  France  ;  with  great  differences 
of  times,  of  proceedings,  and  of  forms,  it  prosecuted  and  at- 
tained very  nearly  the  same  results. 

Remember  the  state  into  which  France  had  fa'len  after  the 
government  of  Cardinal  Richelieu,  and  during  the  minority 
of  Louis  XIV.:  the  Spanish  armies  always  on  the  fron- 
tiers, and  sometimes  in  the  interior  ;  continual  danger  of  in- 
vasion ;  internal  dissensions  carried  to  extremity,  civil  war,  the 
government  weak,  and  decried  both  at  home  and  abroad. 
There  never  was  a  more  miserable  policy,  more  despised  in 
Europe,  or  more  powerless  in  France,  than  that  of  Cardinal 
Mazarin.  In  a  word, society  was  in  a  state,  less  violent  perA 
haps,  but  very  analogous  to  ours  before  the  18th  of  Brumaire.  J 
It  was  from  that  state  that  the  government  of  Louis  XIV.  de-  / 
livered  France.  His  earliest  victories  had  the  effect  of  the 
victory  of  Marengo  ;  they  secured  the  French  territory  ana 
revived  the  national  honor.  I  am  going  to  consider  this  gov- 
eminent  under  its  various  aspects,  in  its  wars,  its  foreign  re- 
lations, its  administration,  and  its  legislation  ;  and  you  will 
see,  I  believe,  that  the  comparison  which  I  speak  of,  and  to 
which  I  do  not  wish  to  attach  a  puerile  importance,  (for  I  care 
rery  little  about  historical  comparisons,)  you  will  see,  I  say, 
that  this  comparison  has  a  real  foundation,  and  that  I  am  fully 
•ustilied  in  makin<^it. 


291  GENERAL    HISTOR  Y    OF 

/  I  shall  first  speak  of  the  wars  of  Louis  XIV.  European 
wars  were  originally  (as  you  know,  and  as  I  have  several 
times  had  occasion  to  remind  you)  great  popular  movements ; 
impelled  by  want,  by  some  fancy,  or  any  other  cause,  whole 
populations,  sometimes  numerous,  sometimes  consisting  of 
mere  bands,  passed  from  one  territory  to  another.  This  was 
the  general  character  of  European  wars,  till  after  the  crusades, 
,at  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century. 

After  this  another  kind  of  war  arose,  but  almost  equally 
/different  from  the  wars  of  modern  times:  these  were  distant 
[wars,  undertaken,  not  by  nations,  but  by  their  governing 
I  powers,  who  went,  at  the  head  of  their  armies,  to  seek,  at  a 
Vlistance,  states  and  adventures.  They  quitted  their  country, 
abandoned  their  own  territory,  and  penetrated,  some  into 
Germany,  others  into  Italy,  and  others  into  Africa,  with  no 
other  motive  save  their  individual  fancy.  Almost  all  the  wars 
of  the  fifteenth,  and  even  apart  of  the  sixteenth  century,  are  of 
this  character.  What  interest — and  I  do  not  speak  of  a  le- 
gitimate interest — but  what  motive  had  France  for  wishing 
that  Charles  VIII.  should  possess  the  kingdom  of  Naples  ] 
It  was  evidently  a  war  dictated  by  no  political  considerations  , 
the  king  thought  he  had  personal  claims  on  the  kingdom  of 
Naples  ;  and,  for  this  personal  object,  to  satisfy  his  own  per- 
sonal desire,  he  undertook  the  conquest  of  a  distant  country, 
which  was  by  no  means  adapted  to  the  territorial  conveniences 
of  his  kingdom,  but  which,  on  the  contrary,  only  endangered 
his  power  abroad  and  his  repose  at  home.  Such,  again,  was 
the  case  with  regard  to  the  expedition  of  Charles  V.  into 
Africa.  The  last  war  of  this  kind  was  the  expedition  of 
Charles  XII.  against  Russia. 

The  wars  of  Louis  XIV.  were  not  of  this  description  ;  they 
were  the  wars  of  a  regular  government — a  government  fixed 
in  the  centre  of  its  dominions,  endeavoring  to  extend  its  con- 
quests around,  to  increase  or  consolidate  its  territory ;  in 
.short,  they  were  political  wars.  They  may  have  been  just 
or  unjust,  they  may  have  cost  France  too  dear ; — they  may 
be  objected  to  on  many  grounds — on  the  score  of  morality  or 
excess  ;  but,  in  fact,  they  were  of  a  much  more  rational  char* 
acter  than  the  wars  which  preceded  them ;  they  were  nu 
onger  fanciful  adventures  ;  they  were  dictated  by  serious  mo- 
lives  ;  their  objects  were  to  reach  some  natural  boundary, 
some  population  who  spoke  the  same  language,  and  might 
oe  annexed  to  the  kingdom,  some  point  of  defence  against  a 


CIVILIZATION    IN    MODERN    EURO] 

r.i  laboring  power.  Personal  ambition,  no  doubt,  ba  1  a  share  s 
in  them  ;  but  examine  the  wars  of  Louis  XIV.,  one  after  the 
Sther,  especially  those  of  the  early  part  of  his  reign,  and  you 
will  find  that  their  motives  were  really  political;  you  will  see 
that  they  were  conceived  with  a  view  to  the  power  and  safety 
of  France. 

'Ibis  fact  has  been  proved  by  results.     France,  at  tho  prc^~\ 
Bout  day,  in  many  respects,  is  what  the  wars  of  Louis  XIV.    j 
made   her.     The  provinces  which  he   conquered,  Francho-  J 
Comte\  Flanders,   and  Alsace,  have  remained  incorporated 
with  France.     There  are  rational  conquests  as  well  as  fool- 
ish ones  :  those  of  Louis  XIV.  were  rational ;  his  enterprises 
have  not  that  unreasonable,  capricious  character,  till  then  so . 
general ;  /heir  policy  was  able,  if  not  always  just  and  prudent. 

If  I  pass  from  the  wars  of  Louis  XIV.  to  his  relations  with    j 
foreign  states,  to  his  diplomacy  properly  so  called,  I  find  an  J 
analogous  result.     I  have  already  spoken  of  the  origin  of  di-  ' 
plomacy  at  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century.     I  have  endeav- 
ored to  show  how  the  mutual  relations  of  governments  and 
states,  previously  accidental,  rare,  and  transient,  had  at  that 
period  become  more  regular  and  permanent,  how  they  had 
assumed  a  character  of  great  public  interest ;  how,  in  short, 
at  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  and  during  the  first  half  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  diplomacy  had  begun  to  perform  a  part  of  im- 
mense importance  in  the  course  of  events.     Still,  however,  it 
was  not  till  the  seventeenth  century  that  it  became  really 
systematic ;  before  then,  it  had  not  brought  about  long  alli- 
ances, great  combinations,  and  especially  combinations  of  a 
durable  mture,  directed  by  fixed  principles,  with  a  steady 
object,  and  with  that  spirit  of  consistency  which  forms  tho 
true  character  of  established  governments.    During  the  course 
of  the  religious  revolution,  the  foreign  relations  of  states  had 
been  almost  completely  under  the  influence  of  religious  inter- 
ests ;  the  Protestant  and  Catholic  leagues  had  divided  Europe 
between  them.     It  was  in  the  seventeenth  century,  under  th 
.nfluence  of  the  government  of  Louis  XIV.,  that  diplomacy 
changed  its  character.     On  the  one  hand,  it  got  rid  of  the  ex 
elusive  influence  of  the  religious  principle ;    alliances  and 
political  combinations  took  place  from  other  considerations. 
At  the  same  time  it  became  much  more  systematic  and  regu- 
lar, and  was  always  directed  towards  a  certain  object,  accord 
nig  to  permanent  principles.     The  regular  birth  of  the  system 


e 


296  GENERAI     HISTORY    OV 

of  thejAbjacejiLpawer  in  Europe,  took  phco  at  this  period, 

/It  was  under  the  government  of  Louis  XIV.  that  this  system* 

with  all  the  considerations  attached  to  it,  really  took  posses- 

J  sion  of  the  politics  of  Europe.     When  we  inquire  what  was, 

/  on  this  subject,  the  general  idea  or  ruling  principle  of  tin. 

policy  of  Louis  XIV.,  the  following  seems  to  be  the  result. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  great  struggle   which  took  place  in 
Europe  between  the  pure  monarchy  of  Louis  XIV.,  pretend- 
ing to  establish  itself  as  the  universal  system  of  monarchy, 
und  civil  and  religious  liberty,  and  the  independence  of  states, 
under  the  command  of  the  Prince  of  Orange,  William  III. 
/You  have  seen  that  the  great  European  fact,  at  that  epoch, 
/  was  the  division  of  the  powers  of  Europe  under  these  two 
Lbanners.     But  this  fact  was  not  then  understood  as  I  now  ex- 
plain it ;  it  was  hidden,  and  unknown  even  to  those  by  whom 
it  was  accomplished.     The  repression  of  the  system  of  pure 
monarchy,  and  the  consecration  of  civil  and  religious  liberty, 
was  necessarily,  at  bottom,  the  result  of  the  resistance  of 
Holland  and  her  allies  to  Louis  XIV. ;  but  the  question  be- 
tween absolute  power  and  liberty  was  not  then  thus  absolutely 
/  laid  down.     It  has  been  frequently  said  that  the  propagation  of 
1  absolute  power  was  the  ruling  principle  in  the  diplomacy  of 
\Louis  XIV.     I  do  not  think  so.     It  was  at  a  late  period,  and 
in  his  old  age,  that  this  consideration  assumed  a  great  part  in 
his  policy.     The  power  of  France,  her  preponderance  in  Eu- 
rope, the  depression  of  rival  powers, — in  short,  the  political 
interest  and  strength  of  the  state,  was  the  object  which  Louis 
XIV.  always  had  in  view,  whether  he  was  contending  against 
Spain,  the  Emperor  of  Germany,  or  England.     He  was  much 
•ess  actuated  by  a  wish  for  the  propagation  of  absolute  power, 
than  by  a  desire  for  the  aggrandizement  of  France  and  his 
-    own  government.     Among  many  other  proofs  of  this,  there  is 
one  which  emanates  from  Louis  XIV.  himself.     We  find  in 
his  Memoirs,  for  the  year  1666,  if  I  remember  rightly,  a  note 
conceived  nearly  in  these  terms  : — 

"  This  morning  I  had  a  conversation  with  Mr.  Sidney,  an 
linglish  gentleman,  who  spoke  to  me  of  the  possibility  of  re- 
viving the  republican  party  in  England.  Mr.  Sidney  asked 
me  for  .£400,000  for  this  purpose.  I  told  him  I  could  not 
giro  him  more  thar  .£200,000.  He  prevailed  on  me  to  send 
to  Switzerland  for  another  English  gentleman,  called  Mr.  Lud 
low,  that  I  might  converse  with  him  upon  the  same  suljoct  * 


r 


CIVIL  II  AT  10H    in    modi.rn    ii  R01  I.  2U7 

Wo  iinj  accordingly,  in  Ludlow's  Memoirs,  about  the  sunt 
late,  t  paragraph  to  the  following  import: — 

"1  have  received  from  the  French  government  an  invitatioi 
to  go  to  Paris,  to  have  some  discussion  on  the  affairs  of  my 
country;  but  I  distrust  this  government." 

And,  in  fact,  Ludlow  did  remain  in  Switzerland. 

You  see  that  the  object  of  Louis  XIV.  at  that  time  was  tc 
weaken  the  royal  power  of  England.  He  fomented  internal 
dissensions,  he  labored  to  revive  the  republican  party,  in  or- 
der to  hinder  Charles  II.  from  becoming  too  powerful  in  his 
own  country.  In  the  course  of  Barillon's  embassy  10  England. 
i  he  same  fact  is  constantly  apparent.  As  often  as  the  authority 
of  Charles  II.  seems  to  be  gaining  the  ascendency,  and  the 
national  party  on  the  point  of  being  overpowered,  the  French 
ambassador  turns  his  influence  in  that  directior,  gives  money 
to  the  leaders  of  the  opposition,  and,  in  short  ccntends  against 
absolute  power,  as  soon  as  that  becomes  the  means  of  weak- 
ening a  rival  of  France.  Whenever  we  attentively  examine 
the  conduct  of  foreign  relations  under  Louis  XIV.,  this  is  the 
fact  which  we  are  struck  with. 

We  are  also  surprised  at  the  capacity  and  ability  of  the 
French  diplomacy  at  this  period.  The  names  of  Torcy, 
D'Avaux,  and  Bonrepaus,  are  known  to  all  well-informed  per- 
sons. When  we  compare  the  despatches,  the  memorials,  the 
skill,  the  management  of  these  counsellors  of  Louis  XIV., 
with  those  of  the  Spanish,  Portuguese,  and  German  negotia- 
tors, we  are  struck  with  the  superiority  of  the  French  minis- 
ters ;  not  only  with  their  serious  activity  and  application  to 
business,  but  with  their  freedom  of  thought.  These  courtiers 
of  an  absolute  king  judge  of  foreign  events,  of  parties,  of  the 
demands  for  freedom,  ind  of  popular  revolutions,  much  more 
soundly  than  the  greater  part  o/  the  English  themselves  of 
that  period.  There  is  no  diplomacy  in  Europe  in  the  seven- 
teenth century  whicryappears  equal  to  the  diplomacy  of  France,  J 
except  perhaps  that  of  Holland.  The  ministers  of  John  de  WittV 
and  William  of  Orange,  those  illustrious  leaders  of  the  party 
cf  civil  and  religious  liberty,  are  the  only  ones  who  appear  to 
have  been  in  a  condition  to  contend  with  the  servants  of  the 
great  absolute  king.  y 

You  see,  that,  whether  we  consider  the  wars  of  Louis  XIV.  A 
or  his  diplomatic  relations,  we  arrive  at  the  same  results.  We  / 
can  easily  conceive  how  a  government  which  conduced  in 
Mich  a  manner  its  wars  and  negotiations,  must  have  acquired  f 


298  GENERAL    HISTOltY    OF 

j  great  solidity  in  Europe,  and  assumed  not  only  a  formidable-, 
/  but  an  able  and  imposing  aspect. 

Let  us  now  turn  our  eyes  to  the  interior  of  France,  and  the 
administration  and  legislation  of  Louis  XIV. ;  we  shall  every- 
where find  new  explanations  of  the  strength  and  splendor  of 
his  government. 
/^^It  is  difficult  to  determine  precisely  what  ought  to  be  under- 
stood by  administration  in  the  government  of  a  state.  Still, 
u  hen  we  endeavor  to  come  to  a  distinct  understanding  on  this 
subject,  we  acknowledge,  I  believe,  that,  under  the  most  gene- 
ral point,  of  view,  administration  consists  in  an  assemblage  ol 
means  destined  to  transmit,  as  speedily  and  surely  as  possible, 
the  will  of  the  central  power  into  all  departments  of  so> 
[ciety,  and,  under  the  same  conditions,  to  make  the  powers  of 
'society  return  to  the  central  power,  either  in  men  or  money 
•'his,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  is  the  true  object,  the  prevailing 
character,  of  administration.  From  this  we  may  perceive 
that,  in  times  where  it  is  especially  necessary  to  establish 
union  and  order  in  society,  administration  is  the  great  means 
of  accomplishing  it, — of  bringing  together,  cementing,  and 
uniting  scattered  and  incoherent  elements.  Such,  in  fact,  was 
.the  work  of  the  administration  of  Louis  XIV.  Till  his  time, 
nothing  had  been  more  difficult,  in  France  as  well  as  in  the 
rest  of  Europe,  than  to  cause  the  action  of  the  central  power 
to  penetrate  into  all  the  parts  of  society,  and  to  concentrate 
into  the  heart  of  the  central  power  the  means  of  strength 
1  assessed  by  the  society  at  large.  This  was  the  object  of 
Louis's  endeavors,  and  he  succeeded  in  it  to  a  certain  extent, 
incomparably  better,  at  least,  than  preceding  governments  had 
done.  I  cannot  enter  into  any  details  ;  but  take  a  survey  of 
every  kind  of  public  service,  the  taxes,  the  highways,  indus- 
try, the  military  administration,  and  the  various  establishments 
which,  belong  to  any  branch  of  administration  whatever ; 
there  is  hardly  any  of  them  which  you  will  not  find  to  have 
either  been  originated,  developed,  or  greatly  meliorated,  under 
ihe  reign  of  Louis  XIV.  It  was  as  administrators  that  tho 
greatest  men  of  his  time,  such  as  Colbert  and  Louvois,  dis- 
played their  genius  and  exercised  their  ministerial  functions 
It  was  thus  that  his  government  acquired  a  comprehensive- 
ness, a  decision,  and  a  consistency,  which  were  wanting  in  ail 
the  European  governments  around  him.  * 

The  same  fact  holds  with  respect  to  this  government,  ui 

I 


CIVILIZATION     1$     MiUH.KN     1.1  J. (Mi;  399 

regards  its  legislative  capacity.  I  will  again  refer  to  the  com* 
Darison  I  made  in  the  outset  to  the  legislative  activity  of  the 
Consular  government,  and  its  prodigious  labor  in  revising  ami 
remodelling  the  laws.  A  labor  of  the  same  kind  was  under 
taken  undrr  Louis  XIV.  The  grca  ordinances  whicli  hr" 
passed  ami  promulgated, — the  ordinances  on  the  criminal  law, 
on  forme  of  procedure,  on  commerce,  on  the  navy,  on  waters 
and  forests, — are  real  codes  of  law,  whicli  were  constructed 
in  tin*  same  manner  as  our  codes,  having  been  discussed  in 
the  Council  of  State,  sometimes  under  the  presidency  of 
Lumoignou.  There  are  men  whose  giory  it  is  to  have  taken 
a  share  in  this  labor  and  those  discussions, —  M.  Pussort,  for 
example.  If  we  had  to  consider  it  simply  in  itself,  we  should 
have  a  great  deal  to  say  against  the  legislation  of  Louis  XIV. 
It  is  full  of  faults  which  are  now  evident,  and  which  nobody 
can  dispute  ;  it  was  not  conceived  in  the  spirit  of  justice  and 
true  liberty,  but  with  a  view  to  public  order,  and  to  give  regu- 
larity and  stability  to  the  laws.  But  even  that  alone  was  a 
great  progress  ;  and  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  the  legislative 
acts  of  Louis  XIV.,  very  superior  to  the  previous  state  of 
legislation,  powerfully  contributed  to  the  advancement  of 
French  society  in  the  career  of  civilization. 

Under  whatever  point  of  view,  then,  we  regard  this  govern* 
ment,  we  can  at  once  discover  the  means  of  its  strength  and 
influence.  It  was,  in  truth,  the  first  government  which  pre- 
sented itself  to  the  eyes  of  Europe  as  a  power  sure  of  its 
position,  which  had  not  to  dispute  for  its  existence  with  do- 
mestic enemies,  which  was  tranquil  in  regard  to  its  territory 
and  its  people,  and  had  nothing  to  think  of  but  the  care  of 
governing.  Till  then,  all  the  European  governments  had 
been  incessantly  plunged  intc  wars  which  deprived  them  of 
security  as  well  as  leisure,  or  so  assailed  by  parties  and  ene- 
mies at  home,  that  they  passed  their  time  in  fighting  for  their 
existence.  The  government  of  Louis  XIV.  appeared  to  be 
the  first  that  was  engaged  solely  in  managing  its  affairs  like 
a  power  at  once  definitive  and  progressive,  which  was  not 
afraid  of  making  innovations,  because  it  reckoned  upon  the 
future.  In  fact,  few  governments  have  been  more  given  to"^ 
innovation.  Compare  it  with  a  government  of  the  same 
nature,  with  the  pure  monarchy  of  Philip  II.  in  Spam, 
which  was  more  absolute  than  that  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  yet 
was  less  regular  and  tranquil.     How  did  Philip  II.  succeed  io'A 


300  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF 

establishing  absolute  power  in  Spain  ?  By  stifling  every  kim) 
of  activity  in  the  country  ;  by  refusing  his  sanction  to  ever} 
kind  of  improvement,  and  thus  rendering  the  state  of  Spain 
completely  stationary.  The  government  of  Louis  XIV.,  or 
the  contrary,  was  active  in  every  kind  of  innovation,  and 
favorable  to  the  progress  of  letters,  arts,  riches — favorable,  in 
a  word,  to  civilization.  These  were  the  true  causes  of  its  pre- 
ponderance in  Europe — a  preponderance  so  great,  that  it  was, 
on  the  Continent,  during  the  seventeenth  century,  not  only  for. 
sovereigns,  but  even  for  nations,  the  type  and  model  of  govern 
ments. 

It  is  frequently  asked,  and  it  is  impossible  to  avoid  asking, 
how  a  power  so  splendid  and  well  established — to  judge  from 
the  circumstances  I  have  pointed  out  to  you,  should  have  fal- 
len so  quickly  into  a  state  of  decay?  how,  after  having  play- 
ed so  great  a  part  in  Europe,  it  became  in  the  following  cen- 
tury so  inconsiderable,  so  weak,  and  so  little  respected  ?  The 
/fact  is  undeniable :  in  the  seventeenth  century,  the  French 
\government  stood  at  the  head  of  European  civilization.  In  the 
I  eighteenth  century  it  disappeared  ;    it  was  the    society  of 
France,  separated  from  its  government,  and  often  in  a  hostile 
position  towards  it,  which  led  the  way  and  guided  the  pro- 
gress of  the  European  world. 

(It  is  here  that  we  discover  the  incorrigible  vice  and  infalli- 
ble effect  of  absolute  power.     I  shall  not  enter  into  any  detail 
respecting  the  fau_.s  of  the  government  of  Louis  XIV.  ;  and 
there  were  great  ones.    I  shall  not  speak  either  of  the  war  of 
the  succession  in  Spain,  or  the  revocation  of  the  edict  of 
Nantes,  or  the  excessive  expenditure,  or  many  other   fatal 
measures  which  affected  its  character.    I  will  take  the  merits 
/"of  the  government,  such  as  I  have  described  them.     I  will 
j    admit  that,  probably,  there  never  was  an  absolute  power  more 
\   completely  acknowledged  by  its  age  and  nation,  or  which  has 
\rendered  more  real  services  to  the  civilization  of  its  country 
as  well  as  to  Europe  in  general.     It  followed,  indeed,  trom 

(the  single  circumstance,  that  this  government  had  no  other 
principle  than  absolute  power,  and  rested  entirely  on  this 
NLasis,  that  its  decay  was  so  sudden  and  deserved.  What  was 
/essentially  wanting  to  France  in  Louis  XIV.'s  time  was  in- 
stitutions, political  powers,  which  were  independent  and  self 
existent,  capable,  in  short,  of  spontaneous  actior    and  resist 


cA<,^j£kA.J?l- , 


CIVILIZATION    IX    Monr.RN    IUR01  801 

nee.    The  ancient  French  institutions,  if  they  deeeive  ita 
■lainc,  no  loDgei  subsisted;  Louis  XIV.  completed  their  de- 
struction,    lie  took  care  not  to  replace  them  by  new  institu- 
tions j  they  would  have  constrained  him,  and  he  did  not  chootQ 
constraint.     The  will  and  action  of  the  central  power  wen; 
all  that  appeared  with  splendor  at  that  epoch.     The  goveni-\ 
:m  nt  of  Louis  XIV.  is  a  great  fact,  a  powerful  and  hrillian'.   J 
fact,  but  it  was  built  upon  sand.  Free  institutions  are  a  guaran- 1/ 
tee,  not  only  for  the  prudence  of  governments,  but  also  for  their 
stability.  No  system  can  endure  otherwise  than  by  institutions. 
Wherever  absolute  power  has  been  permanent,  it  has  beer 
based  upon,  and  supported  by,  real  institutions  ;  sometimes  by 
the  division  of  society  into  castes,  distinctly  separated,  and 
sometimes  by  a  system  of  religious  institutions.     Under  the 
reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  power,  as  well  as  liberty,  needed  inrutu- 
tions.     There  was  nothing  in  France,  at  that  time,  to  protect 
either  the  country  from  the  illegitimate  action  of  the  govern- 
ment, or  the  government  itself  against  the  inevitable  action  of 
time.     Thus,  we  behold  the  government  assisting  its  own  de-' 
cay.    It  was  not  Louis  XIV.  only  who  grew  old,  and  became^ 
feeble,  at  the  end  of  his  reign  ;  it  was  the  whole  system  of  J 
absolute  power.     Pure  monarchy  was  as  much  worn  out  in^ 
1712,  as  the  monarch  himself.     And  the  evil  was  so  much 
the  more  serious,  that  Louis  XIV.  had  destroyed  political 
habits  as  well  as  political  institutions.     There  can  be  no  po- 
litical habits  without  independence.     He  only  who  feels  that 
he  is  strong  in  himself,  is  always  capable  cither  of  serving 
the  ruling  power,  or  of  contending  with  it.  Energetic  charac- 
ters disappear  along  with  independent  situations,  and  a  free 
ind  high  spirit  arises  from  the  security  of  rights. 

^  We  may,  then,  describe  in  the  following  terms  the  state  in 
which  the  French  nation  and  the  power  of  the  government 
were  left  by  Louis  XIV.:  in  society  there  was  a  great  de 
velopment  of  wealth,  strength,  and  intellectual  activity  of 
every  kind;  and,  along  with  this  progressive  society,  thero 
was  a  government  essentially  stationary,  and  without  means 
to  adapt  itself  to  the  movement  of  the  people ;  devoted, 
Mter  half  a  century  of  great  splendor,  to  immobility  and 
weakness,  and  already  fallen,  even  in  the  lifetime  of  its  foun- 
der, into  a  decay  almost  resembling  dissolution.  Such  was 
the  situation  of  France  at  the  expiration  of  the  seventeenth 


V 


302  GENERAL    HISTORY    0* 

century,  and  which  impressed  upon  the  subsequent  period  sc 
different  a  direction  and  character. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  for  me  to  remark  that  a  great  move- 
ment of  the  human  mind,  that  a  spirit  of  free  inquiry,  wae 
v,he  predominant  feature,  the  essential  fact  of  the  eighteenth 
scentury.  You  have  already  heard  from  this  chair"  a  greal 
deal  on  this  topic  ;  you  have  already  heard  this  momentous 
period  characterized,  by  the  voices  of  a  philosophic  orator 
and  an  eloquent  philosopher.*  I  cannot  pretend,  in  the 
small  space  of  time  which  remains  to  me,  to  follow  all  the 
phases  of  the  great  revolution  which  was  then  accomplished ; 
neither,  however,  can  I  leave  you  without  calling  your  atten- 
tion to  some  of  its  features  which  perhaps  have  been  too  little 
remarked. 

The  first,  which  occurs  to  me  in  the  outset,  and  which,  in- 
deed, I  have  already  pointed  out,  is  the  almost  entire  disap- 
pearance (so  to  speak)  of  the  government  in  the  course  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  and  the  appearance  of  the  human  mind 
as  the  principal  and  almost  sole  actor.  Excepting  in  what 
concerned  foreign  relations,  under  the  ministry  of  -he  Duke 
de  Choiseul,  and  in  some  great  concessions  made  to  the  gen- 
eral bent  of  the  public  mind,  in  the  American  war,  for  exam- 
ple • — excepting,  I  say,  in  some  events  of  this  kind,  there 
perhaps  never  was  a  government  so  inactive,  apathetic,  and 

/inert,  as  the  French  government  of  that  time.  In  place  of 
the  ambitious  and  active  government  of  Louis  XIV.,  which 
was  everywhere,  and  at  the  head  of  everything,  you  have  a 
power  whose  only  endeavor,  so  much  did  it  tremble  for  its 
own  safety,  was  to  slink  from  public  view — to  hide  itself  from 

Vjdanger.  It  was  the  nation  which,  by  its  intellectual  movement, 
interfered  with  everythiag,  and  alone  possessed  moral  authqr- 
'ity,  the  only  real  authority. 

A  second  characteristic  which  strikes  me  in  the  state  of 
the  human  mind  in  the  eighteenth  century,  is  the  universality 
of  the  spirit  of  free  inquiry.  Till  then,  and  particularly  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  free  inquiry  had  been  exercised  in  a  very 
limited  field  ;  its  object  had  been  sometimes  religious  qui  s- 
fions,  and  sometimes  religious  and  political  questions  conjoin- 
ed ;  but  its  pretensions  did  not  extend  much  further.  In  the 
eighteenth  century,  on  the  contrary,  free  inquiry  became  uni 

*  The  lectures  ofVili?main  and  Cousin. 


CIVILIZATION    l\    HODBftN     IUROTE.  908 

rcrsal  in  its  character  tnd  objects:  religion,  politice,  pure 
philosophy,  man  and  society,  moral  and  physical  science — 
everything  became,  at  once,  the  subject  of  study,  doubt,  and 
system  ;  the  ancient  sciences  were  overturned  ;  new  sciences 
Sprang  up.  It  was  a  movement  which  proceeded  in  every 
direction,  though  emanating  from  one  and  the  same  impulse. 
This  movement,  moreover,  had  one  peculiarity,  which  per 
haps  can  be  met  with  at  no  other  time  in  the  history  of  the 
world  ;  that  of  being  purely  speculative.  Until  that  time,  in  I 
all  great  human  revolutions  action  had  promptly  mingled  it-  | 
self  with  speculation.  Thus,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  the  ! 
religious  revolution  had  begun  by  ideas  and  discussions  purely  / 
intellectual ;  but  it  had,  almost  immediately,  led  to  events./ 
The  leaders  of  the  intellectual  parties  had  very  speedily  be- 
come leaders  of  political  parties ;  the  realities  of  life  had 
mingled  with  the  workings  of  the  intellect.  The  same  thing 
hail  been  the  case,  in  the  seventeenth  century,  in  the  English 
revolution.  In  France,  in  the  eighteenth  century,  we  see  the 
human  mind  exercising  itself  upon  all  subjects, — upon  ideas 
which,  from  their  connexion  with  the  real  interests  of  life 
-sarily  had  the  most  prompt  and  powerful  influence  upon 
its.  And  yet  the  promoters  of,  and  partakers  in,  these 
great  discussions,  continued  to  be  strangers  to  every  kind  of 
practical  activity,  pure  speculators,  who  observed,  judged,  and 
spoke  without  ever  proceeding  to  practice.  There  never  was 
a  period  in  which  the  government  of  facts,  and  external  real- 
ities, was  so  completely  distinct  from  the  government  of 
thought.  The  separation  of  spiritual  from  temporal  affairs 
has  never  been  real  in  Europe,  except  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury. For  the  first  time,  perhaps,  the  spiritual  world  deve- 
loped itself  quite  separately  from  the  temporal  world  ;  a  fact 
of  the  greatest  impoftance,  and  which  had  a  great  influence- 
on  the  course  of  events.  It  gave  a  singular  character  of  pride 
and  inexperience  to  the  mode  of  thinking  of  the  time  :  phi- 
losophy was  never  more  ambitious  of  governing  the  world>  and 
never  more  completely  failed  in  its  object.  This  necessarily 
'cd  to  results  ;  the  intellectual  movement  necessarily  gave,  at 
last,  an  impulse  to  external  events  ;  and,  as  they  had  been 
iotally  separated,  their  meeting  was  so  much  the  more  difli 
eultj  and  their  collision  so  much  the  more  violent. 

We  can  hardly  now  be   surprised  at  another   character  of 
the  Human  mind  at  this  epoch,  I  mean   its  extreme  boldness 


304  GENERAL    HISTORY     Ob 

Prior  to  this,  its  greatest  activity  had  always  been  restrained 
by  certain  barriers  ;  man  had  lived  in  the  midst  of  facts,  some 
of  which  inspired  him  with  caution,  and  repressed,  to  a  cer- 
tain degree,  his  tendency  to  movement.  In  the  eighteenth 
century,  I  should  really  be  at  a  loss  to  say  what  external  facte 
were  respected  by  the  human  mind,  or  exercised  any  influ- 
ence over  it ;  it  entertained  nothing  but  hatred  or  contempt 
for  the  whole  social  system ;  it  considered  itself  called  upon 
to  reform  all  things  ;  it  looked  upon  itself  as  a  sort  of  creator , 
institutions,  opinions,  manners,  society,  even  man  himself, — 
all  seemed  to  require  to  be  re-modelled,  and  human  reason  un- 
dertook the  task.  Whenever,  before,  had  the  human  mind 
displayed  such  daring  boldness  ? 


)  Such,  then,*  was  the  power  which,  in  the  course  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  was  confronted  with  what  remained  of  the 
government  of  Louis  XIV.  It  is  clear  to  us  all  that  a  colli- 
sion between  these  two  unequal  forces  was  unavoidable.  The, 
/  leading  fact  of  the  English  revolution,  the  struggle  between 
free  inquiry  and  pure  monarchy,  was  therefore  sure  to  be  re- 
I  peated  in  France.  The  differences  between  the  two  cases, 
undoubtedly,  were  great,  and  necessarily  perpetuated  them 
selves  in  the  results  of  each  ;  but,  at  bottom,  the  general  sit- 
uation of  both  was  similar,  and  the  event  itself  must  be  ex- 
plained in  the  same  manner. 

I  by  no  means  intend  to  exhibit  the  infinite  consequences 
of  this  collision  in  France.     I  am  drawing  towards  the  close 
of  this  course   of  lectures,  and  must  hasten  to  conclude.     1 
wish,  however,  before  quitting  you,  to  call  your  attention  to 
the  gravest,  and,  in  my  opinion,  the  most  instructive  fad 
which  this  great  spectacle  has  revealed  to  us.     It  is  the  dam 
)  ger,  the   evil,  the  insurmountable  vice   of  absolute  power 
J  wheresoever  it  may  exist,  whatsoever  name  it  may  bear,  and 
/  for  whatever  object  it  may  be  exercised.     We  have  seen  that 
the  government  of  Louis  XIV.  perished  almost  from  this  sin- 
gle cause.     The  power  which  succeeded  it,  the  human  mind, 
/^the  real  sovereign  of  the  eighteenth  century,  underwent  the 
S  same  fate  ;  in  its  turn,  it  possessed  almost  absolute  power  ;  in 
lis  turn  its  confidence  in  itself  became  excessive.     Its  move- 
'rnent  was  noble,  good,  and  useful ;  and,  were  it  necessary  for 
me  to  give  a  general  opinion  on  the  subject,  I  should  readily 


CIVILIZATION     IN     MODERN     11  ROPE. 


305 


-  iv  tii.it  the  eighteenth  century  appears  to  me  one  of  the 

grandest  epochs  in  the  history  of  the  world,  that  perhaps 
which  has  done  the  greatest  service  to  mankind,  ami  has  pro. 
timed  the  greatest  and  most  general  improvement.  If  I  were 
called  upon,  however,  to  pass  judgment  upon  its  ministry  (if 
I  may  use  such  an  expression),  I  should  pronounce  sentence 
IB  its  favor.  It  is  not  the  less  true,  however,  that  the  abso- 
lute power  exercised  at  this  period  by  the  human  mind  cor 
ranted  it,  and  that  it  entertained  an  illegitimate  aversion  to  the 
subsisting  state  of  things,  and  to  all  opinions  which  differed 
from  the  prevailing  one  ; — an  aversion  which  led  to  error  and 
tyranny.  The  proportion  of  error  and  tyranny,  indeed,  which 
mingled  itself  in  the  triumph  of  human  reason  at  the  end  of 
the  century — a  proportion,  the  greatness  of  which  cannot  bo 
dissembled,  and  which  ought  to  be  exposed  instead  of  being 
passed  over — this  infusion  of  error  and  tyranny,  I  say,  was  a 
consequence  of  the  delusion  into  which  the  human  mind  was 
led  at  that  period  by  the  extent  of  its  power.  It  is  the  duty, 
and  will  be,  I  believe,  the  peculiar  event  of  our  time,  to  ac- 
knowledge that  all  power,  whether  intellectual  or  temporal, 
whether  belonging  to  governments  or  people,  to  philosophers 
or  ministers,  in  whatever  cause  it  may  be  exercised — that  all 
numan  power,  I  say,  bears  within  itself  a  natural  vice,  a  prin- 
ciple of  feebleness  and  abuse,  which  renders  it  necessary  that 
it  should  be  limited.  Now,  there  is  nothing  but  the  general 
freedom  of  every  right,  interest,  and  opinion,  the  free  mani- 
festation and  legal  existence  of  all  these  forces — theie  is 
"aothing,  I  say,  but  a  system  which  ensures  all  this,  can  re- 
strain every  particular  force  or  power  within  its  legitimate 
■jounds,  and  prevent  it  from  encroaching  on  the  others,  so  as 
to  produce  the  real  and  beneficial  subsistence  of  free  inquiry. 
For  us,  this  is  the  great  result,  the  great  moral  of  the  strugglo 
which  took  place  at  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century,  be- 
tween what  may  be  called  temporal  absolute  power  and  spirit 
ual  absolute  power 


I  am  now  arrived  at  the  end  of  the  task  which  I  undertook 
You  wiU  remember,  that,  in  beginning  this  course,  I  stated 
that  my  object  was  to  give  you  a  general  view  of  the  develop- 
ment of  European  civilization,  from  the  fall  of  the  Roman 
Empire  to  the  present  time.  I  have  passed  very  rapidly  ovei 
this  long  career;  so  rapidly  that  it  has  been  quite  out  of  mv 


306  GENERAL    HISTORY    OF    CIVILIZATION. 

power  even  to  touch  upon  every  thing  of  importance,  car  tc 
bring  proofs  of  those  facts  to  which  I  have  drawn  your  atten^ 
tion.  I  hope,  however,  that  I  have  attained  my  end,  which 
was  to  mark  the  great  epochs  of  the  development  of  modern 
/society.  Adow  me  to  add  a  word  more.  I  endeavored,  at  ihe 
outset,  to  define  civilization,  to  describe  the  fact  which  bears 
that  name.  Civilization  appeared  to  me  to  consist  of  two 
principal  facts,  the  development  of  human  society  and  that  of 
man  himself ;  on  the  one  hand,  his  political  and  social,  and 
on  the  other,  his  internal  and  moral,  advancement.  This  year 
I  have  confined  myself  to  the  history  of  society.  I  have  ex- 
hibited civilization  only  in  its  social  point  of  view.  I  have 
said  nothing  of  the  development  of  man  himself.  I  have  made 
no  attempt  to  give  you  the  history  of  opinions, — of  the  moral 
progress  of  human  nature.  I  intend,  when  we  meet  again 
here,  next  season,  to  confine  myself  especially  to  France , 
to  study  with  you  the  history  of  French  civilization,  but  to 
study  it  in  detail  and  under  its  various  aspects.  I  shall  try 
to  make  you  acquainted  not  only  with  the  history  of  society 
in  France,  but  also  with  that  of  man  ;  to  follow,  along  with 
you,  the  progress  of  institutions,  opinions,  and  intellectual  la- 
bors of  every  sort,  and  thus  to  arrive  at  a  comprehension  of 
what  has  been,  in  the  most  complete  and  general  sense,  the 
development  of  our  glorious  country.  In  the  past,  as  well  as 
in  the  future,  she  has  a  right  to  our  warmest  afTeclions 


THE      KND. 


TABLE 


THE  CONTEMPORARY"  SOVEREIGNS 


I.  rUL&KD,  SCOTLAND,   FRANCE,  GERMANY    RUSSIA,  AND  SI'AlN    ANt 
OF  THE  POPES. 

IFrom  Sir  Harris  Nicholas's  "  Chronology  of  History."] 


|A.  U 

1 

England. 

France. 

Germany. 

Papal 
States. 

Russia. 

Spain. 

Scotland. 

800 

Egbert. 

Charle- 
magne. 

Charle- 
magne. 

Leo  III. 

•     • 

•     • 

Achnius. 

814 

, 

Louis  I. 

Louis  1. 

616 

Stephen  V. 

BI7 

Paschal  I. 

* 

810 

CongalcIIL 

BIO 

.     , 

.     . 

Eugene  II. 

b-21 

. 

. 

Valentine. 

. 

.     . 

Dougnl. 

827 

Gregory  IV. 

831 

Alpin. 

834 

Kemuth  II. 

836 

Etbelwolf. 

643 

•     • 

Chnrlce  h 
Chauvo. 

Looiy  11. 

Sergiuj  II. 

847 

.     , 

.     .              *     * 

Leo  IV. 

Rurick 

854 

, 

Donal  1  V. 

855 

i     •              •     • 

Dmafe*  III 

657 

Ethelbaki. 

858 

Nicolas  I. 

.     . 

Garcia  1. 

Cons tan- 

mo 

Eth'elbtrt. 

nine  II 

8G6 

Ethelred  I. 

668 

•     • 

t     . 

Adrian  11. 

872 

Alfred  the 
[Great. 

673 

.     . 

.     . 

.     # 

John  VIII. 

674 

m     . 

, 

.     . 

Ethus. 

876 

.     . 

. 

Carlocmu. 

Gregory. 

— 

. 

Louia  III. 

— 

•     • 

•     • 

Charles  le 
Gros. 

877 

,     . 

Louis  II. 

8^9 

. 

Louis  HI. 



. 

Carloman. 

. 

Oleg 

680 

.     # 

.     . 

.     . 

Fortunio 

883 

. 

, 

Mnrtin  1. 

884 

Charles  le 
Gros 

Adrian  III. 

.  885 

Strjihrn  VI. 

1  887 

!     !         Arn" 

• 

308 


TABLE  OF  CONTEMPORARY  SOVEREIGNS 


., 

England. 

France 

Gkemany 

Papal 
States. 

Russia 

Spain. 

Scotland 

S88 

Hugh 

1 

891 

.     . 

,     . 

Formosu8. 

692 

Donald  VI    | 

,  897 

\     \ 

Stephen  VI  I. 

!  898 

Charles  lo 
Simple. 

899 

[the  Elder. 

•     • 

Louis  IV. 

900 

Edward 

•     • 

•     • 

Rom.  Formo- 
sus. 

— 

.     , 

John  IX. 

901 

Conetantir.'. 

902 

Ilcnedict  IV. 

Sauchol. 

[HI 

906 

.     . 

Leo  V. 

— 

.     . 

•     • 

Christopher. 

907 

. 

Sergius  III. 

910 

. 

Anastasius. 

911 

.     , 

912 

.     . 

.     . 

Lando. 

— 

. 

.     . 

.     . 

John  X. 

913 

t 

Igor  I 

919 

Henrj  I. 

922 

. 

Robert. 

923 

Ralph. 

925 

Athelstan. 

926 

Garcia 

928 

. 

,     . 

. 

Leo  VI.' 

[It 

929 

.     . 

.     . 

Stephen  VIII. 

931 

John  XL 

936 

Louis  IV. 

Otho  the 
Great. 

Leo  VII. 

938 

Malcolm  L 

940 

.     . 

.     . 

Stephen  IX. 

911 

Edmund. 

943 

Martin  II. 

[slaw  I. 

915 

, 

Swiato- 

9-16 

Edred. ' 

Agapet  II. 

954 

Lothaj're 

955 

Edwy.  * 

956 

. 

, 

John  XII 

958 

Indalphus. 

959 

Edgar. 

9fi5 

Benedict  V 

966 

.     , 

,      , 

John  XIII 

968 

Duffus. 

970 

•     • 

•     • 

•     • 

• 

•      • 

Sancho 

972 

# 

Cullenus, 

973 

. 

, 

Otho  II* 

Domnus  II. 

Jaropolk 

KennethHI. 

— 

. 

. 

Benedict  VI. 

II. 

974 

. 

.     . 

Ben  nlict  VII. 

975 

Edw'd  the 
Martyr. 

978 

Etfelredll 

960 

'      * 

•     • 

•     • 

•     • 

Waldi- 
mirl.the 

983 

t     , 

.     , 

Otho  III. 

Great. 

984 

, 

. 

.     . 

John  XTV. 

985 

,     t 

.     . 

John  XV. 

. 

986 

, 

Louis  V. 

.     . 

Ja*m  XVI 

987 

Hugh  Ca- 
pet. 

[ML 

994 

.     . 

.     . 

Garcia 

Constantino1 

996 

, 

[IV 

997 

.     .       'Rcbcrt. 

.      • 

Grimus.       i 

TABLE   OF  CONTEMPORARY  SOVEREIGN. 


3oy 


A    1> 

France. 

Germany. 

Papal 
States. 

RUMIA. 

Spain. 

ScoTLANL 

■.«.•.» 

.     . 

, 

.     .        Silreiter  11. 

1000 

•     * 

•     • 

*       * 

Snncho 
HI.  the 
Great. 

1003 

, 

lhnry  IL 

1003  j        .     . 

•     • 

•      ' 

John  xvir. 

and  Will. 

1004  ! 

, 

,       , 

Malcolm  31. 

1009  '        .     . 

. 

Sergiut  IV. 

1012  |       .     . 

. 

BeuedictVIII 

[polk  1 

1015 

. 

.      . 

,     , 

Swiato- 

1016 

Edmund 
lriinsiJc. 

1017 

Canute. 

[idaw  I. 

1018 

.     . 

Jaro- 

1094 

C.nrad'll. 

JohnXl'x. 

1031 

Henry  L 

1033 

*     * 

•     * 

D— diet  IX. 

Ferdi- 
nand I. 
inCastile 

IU31 

, 

Duncua 

1035 

•     • 

Garc;4 
IV.  tn 

Navarre. 

■ 

Ramirez 

I.  tn 
Aragon. 

1036 

Harold. 

1039 

Hardica- 

nute. 

!Ienx7  Hi 

1040 

, 

.     . 

Macbeth 

1041 

Edward 
the  Con- 
fessor. 

• 

•     * 

1014 

,     , 

Gregory  VI. 

1047 

. 

. 

. 

Clement  II. 

1048 

, 

,     , 

Damasius  11. 

1019 

. 

, 

.     , 

Leo  IX. 

[I 

1051 

.     , 

,     . 

I  sat  law 

1051 

• 

•     * 

•     * 

•     ' 

Sancho 
IV. 
Navarre 

1055 

.     . 

Victor  II. 

1056 

, 

Henry  IV. 

! 

1057 

Stephen  X 

.      .        Mh.mJi.iIH 

1058 

. 

,     . 

Nicolas  11. 

1060 

Fnilip  L 

1 

1061 

.     . 

,     . 

.     . 

Alexander  II 

1063 

•     • 

•     • 

•     * 

•     • 

•     • 

Sancho 1 
Aragon 
Sancho 

1060 

Harold  II. 

,     , 

,     , 

.     . 

I.  Castile. 

_ 

William  I 

1CTJ 

*     * 

•     • 

• 

•     • 

*     * 

Alphon- 
so  I. 
Castile. 

107S 

Gregory  VII. 

Swato- 

alaw  II. 

1976          .     . 

! 

'     * 

•     * 

•     * 

[lodl. 

Sancho 
V.  Nav. 
if  Ar 

11071          .     . 

. 

.     . 

Wsewo- 

11085          .     . 

. 

.     . 

Victor  III. 

a  Miamll. 

,     , 

.     , 

Urban  H. 

rnolakll 

[1093  1       .     . 

Swato- 

Dana!  J  ft 

310 


TABLE  OF  CONTEMPORARY  SOVEREIGNS 


A  D 

1094 

England. 

France 

Germany. 

Papal 
States. 

Russia. 

Spain. 

T 

\ 
Scotland. 

, 

Peter  I. 

Duncan  II 

Nav.  4- 

Ar. 

1096 

. 

. 

Edgax. 

1099 

Paschal  II 

1100 

Icnrj   I. 

1104 

Alphon- 

soI.ZYav. 

4-  Ar. 

1106 

Henry  V. 

1107 

Alexandei I 

1108 

Louis  VI. 

1109 

•     • 

Uiraca, 
Cm. 

1113 

WjmU- 

1118 

Ielas'lL* 

[mir  II. 

1119 

, 

Cahxtus  II. 

1124 

Davidl 

1125 

•     ' 

Lothairell. 

Honorius  II. 

Mistis- 
[law. 

1126 

•     • 

Alphon. 
11.  Cas- 

1130 

Innocent  II. 

tile. 

1132 

•     • 

Jarono^ 
[H. 

1133 

Garcia 

Y.N. 

1134 

•     * 

Ramirez 
II.  Ara- 
gon. 

1135 

Stephen. 

1137 

Louis  VII. 

Pctronil- 
la&Ray- 
mondo, 
Aragon. 

1138 

•     • 

(     . 

Conrad  III. 

.     , 

Wsewo- 

1143 

.     . 

.     . 

Celestine  II. 

[lod  11. 

1144 

.     . 

Lucius  II. 

1145 

.     , 

Eugene  III. 

. 

1146 

•     V 

•     • 

•     • 

lsasla  w 
HI. 

1149 

•     • 

.     • 

•     • 

•     • 

Jurje  I. 
[D. 

list 

Sancho 

VI.  the 

n. 

Wise,iY. 

1152 

i     . 

#     , 

Frederick 

1153 

( 

t 

.     , 

MUcolir.IV 

1154    Henry  II. 

Anastasius 
lIV. 

1155         .     . 

.     , 

,     , 

Adrian  IV. 

1157  •       .     . 

i 

•     * 

•     • 

•     * 

Andrej 

Sancho 
II.  Cas- 
tile. 

1158  1       .     . 

• 

•     • 

[HI 

•     * 

Alphon. 
III. 
Castile. 

1159 

Alexander 

1162 

•     • 

•     • 

•     * 

•     • 

•     ' 

Alphon- 
■oll. 
Aragon. 

1165 

, 

,     . 

,     . 

.     . 

,     . 

,     . 

Wil!ia:r.  I. 

1175 

#     , 

m     , 

.     , 

Michel  I. 

1177  ;      .     . 

.     . 

.     . 

Wsewo- 

1180 

1        •      • 

Philip  h. 

[lod  III. 

TABLE   OF  CONTEMPORARY  SOVEREIGNS. 


811 


1 

England. 

France. 

Gbimant. 

Papal 

Statics. 

IUsMA. 

Spain. 

1  Scotland 

II19I 

Lucius  III. 

hl89 

Urban  III. 

'1187 

Gregory  VII  I. 

11188 

Clement  III. 

1188 

Richard  I 

use 

.     . 

•     • 

Henry  VI. 

1191 

, 

•     • 

Celestinelll. 

1194 

•     * 

•     * 

*       * 

Sancho 
VII. 
Navarrt 

iii9n 

, 

Peter  II. 

11188 

i 

■•     • 

Philip 

Innocent  III 

Aragon. 

.1199 

John 

1212 

.     . 

1213 

Jurjo  II 

Jas.  I.  Ar 

1214 

Henry  I. 

Alex.  II. 

1216 

Heny  III. 

Castile. 

1217 

Honorjus  III 

Constan- 

F.rcl.lll. 

1223 

Louis 
[VIII. 

tino. 

Castile. 

1226 

St.  Louia 
[IX. 

ISS 

Gregory  IX. 

1231 

Thoohald 

1239 

Jaroslaw 

I.  Xav. 

11241 

Celestine  IV. 

[II. 

1243 

Innocent  IV. 

|1215 

Alexan- 
der 

Alex  HI 

1219 

New- 

1250 

. 

Conrad  IV. 

skoi. 

[C. 

1252 

, 

Alph.IV. 

1253 

Theobald 

1254 

•     • 

•     • 

William  of 
Holland 

Alexander 
IV. 

11.  Nov. 

1257 

•     • 

Richard,E. 
of  Cora- 

wall 

1262           .     . 

Urban  IX. 

Jaroslaw 

!•->!»  1 

Gregory  X. 

[III. 

1205 

Clement  IV. 

1270 

PkiJp  III. 

Wasilej 

Hen.  I. 

1272 

Edward  I 

[1- 

Navarre. 

1273 

•     • 

•     • 

Hapsbuiv. 

1274 

Joanna  I. 

1275 

Dimitrcj 

Navarre. 

1276 

.     . 

Innocent  V. 

Peter  III. 

Adrian  V. 

Aragon. 

- 

John  XX. 

run 

Nicolas  HI. 

'1281 

Martin  IV. 

Andrej. 

1284 

.     . 

.     . 

.      . 

.     , 

Sancho 

|l285 

IV.  Cos. 

.     . 

Philip  IV 

Elonorius  IV. 

Alphonso 

III.  Ar. 

12^5 

Morgan* 

.1288 

Nicolas  IV. 

John  Bahol 

12'JI 

. 

James  II. 

.1292 

1     • 

•     • 

Adolphus 

Aragon. 

1294 

,     . 

•     • 

Ce  /> stine  V. 

Danillo. 

[Castile. 

1109 

„  i  •    •    . 

.     .       1 

.     .       1 

Jo  i far*  VII I 

•     • 

Perd.  IV 

'612 


TABLE   OF  CONTEMPORARY  SOVEREIGNS. 


A.  D  |  England. 

France. 

Gkbmany. 

Papal 

States. 

Russia. 

Spain. 

SCOTLANP 

1296 

Interreg-- 

1298 

•     • 

Albert  of 
Austria. 

[num 

1303 

Benedict  X. 

llow. 

1305 

,     . 

Clement  V. 

Michai- 

1306 

Robert  I. 

1307 

Edward  II. 

1308 

.     . 

.     . 

Henry  VII. 

1312 

Alphonso 

1314 

•     * 

Louis  X. 
K.  of  Na- 
varre. 

Louis  IV. 

V.  Cast. 

1316 

John  I. 

1316 

.     . 

Philip  V. 

.     , 

John  XXL 

1317 

.     . 

,     . 

.     . 

Jurjelll. 

1322 

Chas.  IV. 

1327 

Edward 

[III. 

•     • 

•     • 

Alexander  II. 

•     • 

Alphonso 
IV.  Ar. 

1328 

FhilipVI. 

•     • 

Iwan  I. 
of  Mos- 
cow. 

Joanna  II 
Navarre. 

1329 

David  II. 

1334 

[Edw.  Ba- 

1336 

•     • 

•     • 

Peter  II. 
Aragon. 

liol  usurped 
in  1332,  but< 

1340 

Semen. 

was  deposed, 
in  the  sarav 
year.] 

1342 

1346 

.     . 

.     , 

Charles  IV 

[Nav. 

1349 

Charles  II 

1350 

•     • 

John  II. 

Peter  I. 
Castile. 

1353 

Innocent  VI. 

Iwan  II. 

1359 

Dimitrei 
II. 
Dimitrej 

1363 

Urban  V. 

1364 

.     . 

Chas.  V. 

HI. 

[Castile. 

1369 

Henry  11. 

1371 

.     . 

,     , 

Gregory  XL 

Robert  II. 

1377 

Richard  II. 

[laus. 

1378 

Wences- 

Urban  VI. 

[Castile. 

1379 

John  I. 

1380 

Chas.  VI. 

[Nav. 

1366 

,     # 

Chas.  III. 

1387 

John  I. 

1389 

Wasilej 

Aragon. 
[Cast. 

II. 

1390 

Boniface  IX 

, 

Henry  III. 

Robert  III. 

1395 

.     , 

Martin, 

1399 

Henry  IV. 

Aragon. 

1400 

Robert. 

1404 

Innocent  VII. 

1406 

Gregory  XII. 

•     * 

John  II. 

James  I. 

1409 

Alexander  V. 

1410 

John  XXII. 

1411 

.     . 

. 

Sigismond. 

1411 

. 

.     , 

,     , 

Ferd.  I. 

1413 

Henry  V. 

Aragon. 

^ 

1416 

•     ' 

• 

•     • 

•     • 

•     • 

Alphonso 
V.  Ar. 

1417 

1422 

Henry  V". 

Chas.VII. 

TABLE   OF  CONTEMPORARY  SOVEREIGNS. 


:;i.; 


A.D. 

England.  France. 

Germany. 

Papal 

States. 

Russia. 

SrAiN. 

Scotland. 

.425 

\V:»Sil,.j 
1IL 

Blanche, 
Nav.   * 

1431 

Eugene  IV 

John  1. 

1437 

Albert  II. 

.     , 

At. 

Jurat*  II. 

1440 

Fred.  111. 

1447 

Nicolas  V 

1454 

Henry  IV. 

1455 

Calixtns  III. 

Castile. 

1458 

Pius  II. 

1460 

.     . 

.      . 

.  IlIlK  .     III. 

1461 

Eihr  IV. 

Louis  XI. 

1462 

.     . 

Wasilcj 

1461 

Paul  II. 

I. 

1471 

Sixtus  IV. 

1474 

•     • 

•     • 

Ferd.  II. 
&  Isabella 
of  Castile. 

1479 

Ferd.  II., 
the  Cath- 
olic, A. 
Eleanor, 

jr. 

Francis. 
Phasbua, 

N. 

1483 

Edward  V. 
Rich.  III. 

Charles 
VIII. 

Catherine 
Nav 

1484 

InnoctntVIII 

1485 

Henry  VII. 

1488 

Jamcu  IV 

1492 

Alexand.  VI. 

1493 

•     • 

•     • 

Maxi- 
milian I. 

1498 

LouisXII. 

1503 

Pius  HI. 
Julius  11. 

1505 

Wasilej 

1509 

Hen.  VIII. 

IV. 

1513 

LeoX. 

. 

Jameo  V 

1515 

Francis  I. 

1516 

Charles  I. 

1519 

•     • 

•      ' 

•     •  . 

•     • 

Emperor 
Chas.  V 

1522 

Adrian  VI. 

1523 

Clemert  VII. 

1533 

I  wan 
Wasile- 

1534 

Paul  III. 

jevitch. 

1542 

Miry. 

1547 

Edw.  VI.- 

Henry  11. 

1550 

Julius  III. 

1553 

Mary. 

til- 

1555 

Marcellinus 

1556 

Paul  IV. 

. 

Philip  II. 

1558 

Elizabeth 

Ferd.  I. 

1559 

Francis  IJ 

Pius  IV. 

15H0 

Chas.  IX. 

1564 

'iMfl 

■ 

Maxi- 

milian II. 

Pius  V. 

•1567 

. 

Jwuo.  VI. 

1572 

Or^frorjXIIl. 

1574 

. 

H*nrrlII. 

) 

IS7.T 

RodolphTT. 

14 

314 


TABLE   OF  CONTEMPORARY  SOVEREIGNS. 


A.  D. 

England. 

France 

Germany. 

Papal 

States. 

Russia. 

Spain. 

Scotland. 

1584 

.     . 

^eodore 

1 

1585 

.     . 

. 

Sixtus  V. 

I. 

1589 

Hear*  IV. 

.     , 

1590 

Urban  VII. 
GregoryXIV. 

1591 

Innocent  IX. 

1592 

Clement  VIII 

1 

1598 

GREAT 

BRITAIN. 

*     * 

Boris  ' 
Godu- 
now. 

Philip  III. 

1 

1603 

James  I. 

Atncnded 

1605 

•     • 

•     • 

•     • 

Leo  XL* 
Paul  V. 

the  throne 
of  Emrjuid 

1606 

Wasilej 

Mai  oh, 

"  pan. 

•   Schuis- 

1603. 

1610 

,     , 

Louis 

koL 

1612 

,     . 

Matthias. 

1613 

*     * 

•     • 

•     • 

■vlichael 
Fedro- 
witsch. 

1619 

, 

.     . 

Ferd.  II. 

1621 

, 

.     . 

.     . 

Gregory  XV. 
Urban  VIII. 

.     . 

Philip  IV. 

1623 

1625 

Charles  I. 

1637 

.     . 

Ford.  III. 

1643 

#     . 

Leu.  XIV. 

1644 

Innocent  X. 

1645 

Alesej 

Mic. 

1655 

Alexand.VIl. 

1658 

. 

Leopold  I. 

1660 

Ciarles  II. 

#     . 

1665 

ChiiS.  II 

1667 

1670 

Clement  X. 

HI. 

1676 

Innocent  XL 

Feodore 

1682 

Iwan 
Alex. 

1685 

James  II. 

Peter  the 
Great. 

1689 

Mary  & 

.     . 

,     . 

Alexand.VIII 

1691 

William  1H 

Innocent  XII. 

1694 

Wm.  Ill- 

1700 

. 

.     . 

Clement  XL 

.     . 

Philip  V. 

1702 

Anne. 

1705 

, 

.     . 

Joseph  I. 

1711 

.     . 

CharlesVl. 

1714 

George  I. 

1715 

Louis  XV. 

1721 

. 

Innoc.  XIII. 

1724 

. 

t     # 

Bened.  X11L 

'  trine  I 

1725 

Cathe- 

1727 
1730 

George  II 

•    ; 

•     • 

Clement  XII. 

Peter  II 
Anne. 

1740 

# 

#     . 

Bened.  XIV. 

Iwan  III 

1741 

t    # 

.     . 

,     , 

Eliza- 

1743 

>    . 

beth. 

1745 

•     ' 

•    • 

Francis  I. 
&   Maria 
Teresa. 

1"51 

t     , 

,     , 

Ferdi- 

1758         ".     . 

»*     \ 

:iementXIIl 

tm 

nand  VI 

1759  1        .     . 

' 

•     • 

Charles 

|1760  I  George  III 

1 

III 

TABLE  OF  CONTEMrORAKf   SOVEREIGNS. 


.115 


A.D. 

Great 
Britain. 

France.  .Germany. 

Papal 
States. 

Russia. 

Stain. 

SroiL.Mm. 

1774 
1775 

|I788 
i1T90 
17U2 

179ft 

1800 
1801 

1S04 

1806 
1808 

1811 

1814 

1820 
1823 
1824 
1825 
1828 
1829 
1830 
1831 
1832 
1833 
1834 
1835 
11836 
1837 

Regency. 
George  IV. 

[IV. 

Willinm 

Victoni. 

Lou.XVl. 
Republic. 

Napoleon 
Enijwror. 

Louis 
XVIII. 

Chaa.*X. 

[Philip. 
Louis 

Joseph  11. 

Leopold  II. 
Francis 
II.* 

AUSTRIA. 

Francis  1. 
Fcidiu.  1. 

Clement 
XIV. 
Pius  VI. 

Pins'*  i. 

Leo  XII 

G  reef  <ry 
XVI. 

Peter  III 
Cathe- 
rine 11. 

Paul  1. 

Aleian- 
dor. 

NicoIro  I 

Chaa.  IV. 

Ford.  VII. 
J.  Napo- 
loou. 

Ferd.  VII. 
loabella. 

i 

I 

E 

2 

•  Uimj  the  establishment  of  the  confederation  of  the  Rhine,  In  1806,  Francis  ceased 
to  be  Emperor  of  Germany  and  became  hereditary  Emperor  of  Austria,  under  the  title 
if  !•  ran  els  I. 


316 


TABLE   OF  CONTEMPORARY  SOVEREIGNS 


THE  LESSER  EUROPEAN  STATES,  FROM  lt>9i»  TO  IKK 


A.  D. 

Denmark. 

Naples. 

Poland 

Portugal. 

Prussia. 

Sardinia. 

Sweden. 

Christian 

.     . 

Augustus 

Peter  II. 

Frederic 

,     . 

Choc.  XII. 

V. 

11. 

William. 

l«99 

Frcder.IV. 

1701 

Frederic  I 

1704 

Stanislaus 

(Lecxm- 

sky.) 

!22 

. 

John  V. 

1709 

•     • 

Augiis.  II. 

[Wm.  I. 

1713 

Ch'aa.'ll. 

.     . 

t 

Frederic 

[anora. 

1719 

Ulrica  Ek- 

1720 

[VI. 

Victor  Am- 
adeus  II. 

Frederic. 

1730 

Christian 

,    , 

#     . 

#     # 

Charles 

1733 

.     . 

,    t 

Aiurufitue 

Eiiiun.  HI. 

1735 

.     , 

Chris.  III. 

ii  r 

1740 

Fred.  II. 

the  Great. 

1746 

Frederic  V. 

1750 

•     • 

1       •     •      |     Joseph 
•     •                         |  Emanuel. 

1758 

.    .     !       .    . 

Adolphus 

1759 

.     . 

, 

Frcdenc 

1764 

,     , 

.     .       Stanislaus  | 

1766 

Chna.  VII. 

(Peniatow-; 
.     .       i  axy)          ' 

1771 

.  .    I ■•■:.  . 

, 

* 

Gustavus 

11772 

.      .         1st  Putf- 

III. 

,1773 

.  ! '  "7 

Victor  Am 

.1777 

.     . 

.  . 

Maria. 

[Wm.  II. 

III. 

1786 

Frederic 

|1792 

Gi^tavTis 

.1793 

# 

,      , 

2d  Purt'u. 

IV.Adol. 

1795 

,     , 

t 

3d  Purt'n. 

1796 

•     • 

'   ' 

•     • 

•     • 

Charles 

1797 

Pred.W. 

1799 

John  VI. 

1802 

Victor 

1808 

Frwkr.Vl 

Jos.  Nb- 
poleon. 

Eiunn. 

1809 

,     , 

.      . 

,     # 

,     . 

.     , 

Chao.XHI. 

1815 

JoHchira 

AlexuLdtr. 

Murot 

1S18 

•     • 

[niitid  I. 

CLarko 
John  XI Y 

!l821 

,     , 

Fordi- 

# 

,     t 

Charles 

1825 

, 

,     , 

Nicg'os.   . 

Felix. 

,1826 

Fraueia. 

,      . 

Pedro  IV. 

1828 

M  ana  da 
Gloria. 

1830 

FeriSn.ll. 

1831 

Charles 
Am&deas. 

1832 

1833 

1834 

I 

1635 

- 

|1836 

1 

1837 

J 

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Books  edited  by  6.  P.  Quackenbos."— W.  B.  McCrate,  Princ.  Acad.,  E.  Sullivan, 
Me. :  "  Quackenbos's  books  need  only  to  be  known  to  be  used  in  all  the  schools  in  tho 
State.  Wherever  they  are  introduced,  they  are  universally  liked? — Jas.  B.  Rue, 
County  Supt  of  Schools,  Council  Bluffs,  Iowa :  "  Any  thing  that  has  Quackenbos*  a 
name  is  sufficient  guarantee  with  me." — Methodist  Quarterly  Review,  Jan. 
I860:  "Every  thing  we  have  noticed  from  Mr.  Quackenbos  shows  that  the  making  of 
bookb  of  this  class  is  his  proper  vocation." 

Single  copies  of  the  above  Standard  zoorks  will  be  mailed,  post-paid,  for 
examination^  on  receipt  of  one-half  tlic  retail  prices.  Liberal  terms  made 
for  introduction.     Address 

D.  AFPLSIOST  &  CO.,  Publishers, 

549  <£  551  Broadway,  Xew  Torl\ 


A  A /'/'/.!-.  ro\  <v  <V.s  PUBLICATIONS. 


Quackenbos's  Illustrated  School  History  of 
the  United  States. 

12mo,  473  pages. 

The  grail  advantage  claimed  tor  this  work  over  others  of  the 
claw,  is  the  interest  with  which  Che  subject  is  invested.     The  student 
to  hus  history  lesson  in  this  volume  as  a  recreation  rather  than  a 
Th<-  stylo,  eleaf  and  simple,  yet  dignified,  forcible,  and  often  elo- 
quent, inspires  the  learner  with  a  love  of  the  subject,  and  a  taste  for 
historical  reading  in  general. 

Quackenbos's  History  is  very  widely  used,  and  gives  general  satisfac- 
tion. It  has  recently  been  adopted  by  the  State  of  California,  the  cities 
of  Baltimore,  Cleveland,  Lexington  (Ky.),  New  Orleans,  and  multitudes 
of  minor  places,  for  their  Common  Schools.  Many  strong  recommenda- 
tions of  the  work  have  been  received,  of  which  the  following  from  Prof. 
V\  K.  Clifford,  of  Northern  Indiana  College,  will  serve  as  a  specimen: 
"  I  do  not  know,''  he  says,  "  when  I  have  seen  a  school-book  that  has 
pleased  me  as  heartily  as  does  this.  The  study  is  generally  a  bore  to 
students,  on  account  of  the  dry,  condensed  itemizing  employed  by  com- 
pilers. Mr.  Q.  selects  the  prominent  points,  and  weaves  them  into  an 
eaaj  narrative  that  attracts  the  young  mind  with  much  of  the  charm  of  a 
fairy  tale  or  of  Robinson  Crusoe  ;  yet  in  no  instance  does  he  violate  his- 
torical truth  to  add  zest  to  the  story.  Prof.  Q.  is  Hie  best  author  of 
school-books  that  I  know." 

From  W.  H.  Stcltz.  Prine.  Female  High  School,  Easton,  Pa. 
"  Regarding  this  as  the  best  and  most  interesting  manual  of  United  States  History 
we  have  ever  had,  we  use  it  in  our  school.    Its  beautiful  mechanical  execution,  its 
numerous  and  excellent  maps  and  illustrations,  and  its  scholarlike  character  altogether, 
give  it  a  decided  precedence,  I  think,  over  any  similar  work  now  before  the  public." 
From  Wm.  O.  Eoc.rns.  Supt  of  Schools,  Xeic  Or?. 
"  Our  teachers,  very  generally,  bear  testimony  to  the  many  excellent  qualities  of 
Quackenbos's  History  of  the  United  States,  as  a  text-book  for  public  sch<> 
From  Superintendents  of  Orange  Count)/,  Vermont. 
Revolted :  "  That  we  recommend  it  as  better  calculated  to  create  and  promote  an 
interest  in  the  important  study  of  history  than  any  other  History  of  the  United  States 
with  which  we  are  acquainted." 

From  J.  Q.  Foot,  County  Supt.  of  Schools,  Rock  County,  Wis. 
•  I  can  cheerfully  recommend  Quackenbos's  Histories,  as  in  my  opinion  the  best  in 
nee.    They  are  written  in  superior  pty1  I  attractive    Tha  Primary 

has  all  the  interc:!    I 


D.  APFLETON  <L   CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


History  of  Rome. 

By  Dr.  THOMAS  ARNOLD.     Three  Volumes  in  One.     8vo,  G70  page* 

Arnold's  History  of  Rome  is  a  well-known  standard,  no  lesa  full  an  J 
accurate  than  the  works  of  Niebuhr  and  Schmitz,  while  it  far  surpasses  then* 
in  interest.  The  style  is  such  as  the  subject  requires,— -easy,  perspicuous 
iignified,  and  eloquent.  Every  page  glows  with  that  truth-loving  spirit  fos 
trhich  Dr.  Arnold  was  distinguished.  With  him  nothing  is  taken  for 
fronted ;  every  statement  is  verified  by  reference  to  the  old  historians. 
Fhe  clear-sighted  judgment  of  the  author  and  his  profound  acquirements  as 
*  philologist  and  critic,  preeminently  qualify  him  for  dealing  with  ancient 
records,  in  which  truth  and  fable  are  so  blended  that  it  is  often  exceedingly 
difficult  to  distinguish  them.  No  proper  opportunity  is  lost  of  introducing 
sage  reflections  on  morals  and  politics,  and  suggesting  themes  of  useful 
thought  to  the  intelligent  mind. 

As  this  history  is  destined  to  remain  a  standard  for  years,  it  should  have 
a  place  in  every  private  and  public  library.  Its  adaptation  to  the  wants  of 
high-schools  and  colleges  will  be  apparent  on  the  most  cursory  examination. 

Lectures  on  Modern  History. 

By  Dr.  THOMAS  ARNOLD.     Large  12mo,  428  pages. 

In  these  Lectures,  Dr.  Arnold,  confessedly  one  of  the  best  of  modern 
historians,  has  presented  his  views  on  the  subject  of  history  and  its  uses  • 
the  difficulties  a  student  is  likely  to  encounter,  and  the  best  mode  of  sur- 
mounting them.  His  object  is  to  awaken  an  interest  in  historical  studies, 
and  furnish  the  learner  with  such  general  information  as  will  enable  him  to 
pursue  his  course  to  the  best  advantage. 

The  present  is  a  reprint  of  the  second  London  edition.  It  is  accompa- 
nied  with  a  Preface  and  Notes  by  Henry  Reed,  M.A.,  Professor  of  English 
Literature  in  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  who  has  had  in  view  its  use, 
not  only  for  general  reading,  but  also  as  a  text-book  for  collegiate  classes. 

From  the  Courier  and  Enquire. 
11  Trofessor  Eeed  has  added  greatly  to  the  worth  and  interest  of  the  volume,  by  aj> 
pending  to  each  Lecture  such  extracts  from  Dr.  Arnold's  other  writings  as  would  moi« 
rally  illustrate  its  prominent  points.  The  Notes  and  Appendix  which  he  has  thu* 
>*7_rnlshed  are  exceedingly  valuable.  No  student  or  literary  man  who  has  the  least 
<*gard  for  the  philosophy  of  history  should  be  without  this  book.  So  far  as  out 
Knowledge  extends,  there  is  no  other  before  the  public  which  can  be  compared  to  it  tat 
Interest  and  permanent  worth." 


D    APPLETOX  &   CO:s    PL  li  LIGATIONS. 


PUT^S  GEOGRAPHICAL  AND  HISTORICAL  SERIEa 


I.  Ancient  Geography  and  History. 

12mo,  300  pagres. 

This  work  was  originally  prepared  by  Wilhclin  Piitz,  au  eminent  Gen&cJ) 
icholar,  translated  and  edited  in  England  by  the  Rev.  T.  K.  Arnold,  and  U 
urn  revised  and  introduced  to  the  American  public  in  a  well-written  preface, 
by  Mr.  Gkorgk  W.  Gxeknk,  Teacher  of  Modern  Languages  in  Brown  (Jflfti 
vcisity. 

As  a  Text-Book  on  Ancient  History  for  colleges  and  advanced  Academics, 
this  volume  is  believed  to  be  one  of  the  best  compends  published. 

II.  Mediaeval  Geography  and  History. 

Translated  by  Rev.  R.  B.  PAUL,  M.A.  12mo,  211  pages. 
The  characteristics  of  this  volume  arc  precision,  condensation,  and 
luminous  arrangement.  It  is  precisely  what  it  pretends  to  be — a  manual,  a 
sure  and  conscientious  guide  for  the  student  through  the  crooks  and  tangles 
of  Mediaeval  History.  All  the  great  principles  of  this  extensive  period  are 
carefully  laid  down,  and  the  most  important  facts  skilfully  grouped  around 
them. 

III.  Manual   of    Modern    Geography    and 

History. 

Translated  by  Rev.  R.  B.  PAUL,  M.A.  12mo,  S3G  pages. 
This  volume  completes  the  Series  of  the  author's  works  on  Geography 
aud  History.  Every  important  fact  of  the  period,  comprehensive  as  it  is 
both  in  Geography  and  History,  is  presented  in  a  concise,  yet  cleai  and 
aonnected  manner,  so  as  to  be  of  value,  not  only  as  a  text-book  for  student*, 
but  to  tho  general  reader  for  reference.  Although  the  facts  aro  greatfj 
oondensed,  as  of  necessity  they  must  be,  yet  they  are  presented  with  sr. 
much  distinctness  as  to  produce  a  fixed  impression  on  the  mind.  It  is  alv 
reliable  as  \he  work  of  an  indefatigable  German  scholar,  for  correct  infoi» 
mation  relating  to  the  progress  and  changes  of  States  and  notions,  literatnro 
ta  *ci>nce9  and  the  arts  and  all  that  combines  in  rrodfrn  civilization. 


I).  APPLE! ON  &   CO:S   PUBLICATIONS 


Manual  of  Ancient  and  Modern  History. 

Ry  W.  C.  Taylor,  LL.  D.,  M.  R,  A.  S.    Revised  by  C.  S.  HENRr.  P.  D 
1  vol,  8vo,  870  pages. 

ANCIENT  HISTOK  Y,  Separately,  858  pages. 
Containing  the  Political  History,  Geographical  Position,  and  Social  StaU 
•  I  the  principal  Nations  of  Antiquity,  carefully  digested  from  the  ancient 
ff.  'tcrs,  and  illustrated  by  the  discoveries  of  modern  scholars  and  travellers 

MODERN  HISTORY,  Sepaeatelt,  812  pages. 
Containing  the  Rise  and  Progress  of  the  principal  European  Nations,  then 
Political  History,  and  the  changes  in  their  Social  Condition  ;  with  a  Histon 
of  the  Colonies  founded  by  Europeans. 


Inquiry  is  often  made  by  those  who  have  not  the  time  or  opportunity  foi 
an  extended  course  of  historical  reading,  for  a  work  that  embraces  within 
reasonable  compass  the  leading  events  of  Ancient  and  Modern  History,  and 
will  give  them  a  correct  idea  of  its  leading  features  stripped  of  unimport 
ant  details.  Such  a  work  will  be  found  in  this  compilation  of  Dr.  Taylor 
With  the  view  of  bringing  a  general  knowledge  of  the  past  within  the  reach 
of  all  classes  of  readers,  he  has  selected  the  great  facts  connected  with  the 
rise  and  progress  of  nations,  their  customs,  religion,  and  political  institutions. 
and  carefully  digested  them  in  a  clear  and  comprehensive  summary. 

For  the  purposes  for  which  it  is  designed,  it  is  believed  that  this  wort 
has  no  equal.  It  is  this  conviction  on  the  part  of  those  who  have  examined 
it,  that  has  led  to  its  extensive  introduction  as  a  text-book  into  the  academies 
and  collegies  of  our  land.  Some  of  its  distinguishing  features  are  mentioned 
below. 

In  presenting  facts,  the  author  has  not  overlooked  the  philosophy  of 
nistory,  but  has  traced  events  to  their  causes,  and  directed  attention  to  tht 
progress  of  civilization  and  its  effects  on  society.  Thus  exhibited  in  theii 
connection,  as  parts  of  the  great  plan  of  Providence  in  the  government  of 
the  world,  events  are  understood  as  well  as  remembered,  and  the  readej 
receives  a  no  less  valuable  lesson  in  philosophy  than  in  history. 

A  knowledge  of  its  climate,  natural  features,  towns  and  cities,  is  often 
essential  to  the  proper  understanding  of  a  country's  history.  To  meet  this 
want,  a  brief  geographical  outline  is  in  every  case  prefixed.  The  accentu- 
ation of  proper  names,  as  they  occur,  is  another  feature  of  great  practica' 
value. 

Dryness  is  generally  characteristic  of  condensed  historical  outlines ;  id 
tJbe  present  case  it  is  avoided  by  the  vigorous  style  of  the  author,  and  th« 
introduction  of  interesting  anecdotes  and  episodes  that  serve  to  relieve  the 
2ahid,  and  bring  out  in  clear  light  the  peculiarities  of  individual  oi-  nation^ 
character. 

The  American  edition  has  been  revised  throughout  by  Dr.  Henry,  and 
enlarged  by  the  introduction  of  an  admirable  chanter  on  American  History 


J>    APPLETON  ct   C01S   P9JHLIOATIOJf& 


A.  Digest  of  the  Laws,  Customs,  Manners, 
and  Institutions  of  the  Ancient  and 
Modern  Nations. 

By  Thomas  Dew,  late  President  of  the  College  of  William  and  Mm. 
8vo,  662  pages. 

Oa  examination,  it  will  be  found  that  more  than  ordinary  laboi  has  ban 
expended  upon  this  work,  and  that  the  author  has  proceeded  upon  highci 
principles  and  has  had  higher  aims  in  view  than  historical  compilers  ordi- 
narily propose  to  themselves.  Instead  of  being  a  mere  catalogue  of  events, 
chronologically  arranged,  it  is  a  careful,  laborious,  and  instructive  digest  of 
the  laws,  customs,  manners,  institutions,  and  civilization  of  Ancient  and 
Modern  Nations.  That  it  is  thus  enabled  to  give  a  clearer  and  fairer  idea 
of  the  past  and  its  relations  to  the  present,  does  not  admit  of  a  moment1  h 
doubt 

No  pains  have  been  spared  by  the  author  to  secure  accuracy  in  facts  and 
figures ;  and  in  doubtful  cases  references  are  given  in  parentheses,  so  that 
the  student  can  readily  satisfy  himself  by  going  to  original  sources.  The 
department  of  Modern  History,  too  often  neglected  in  works  of  this  kind,  has 
received  special  care  and  attention. 

From  John  J.  Owes,  Professor  in  Xew  York  Free  Academy. 

14 1  have  examined,  with  much  pleasure,  Prof.  Dew's  Digest  of  the  Laws,  Manners, 
Customs,  Ac,  of  Ancient  and  Modern  Nations.  It  furnishes  a  desideratum  in  the  study 
of  history  which  I  have  long  desired  to  see.  The  manner  in  which  history  is  generally 
studied  in  our  institutions  of  learning  is,  in  my  judgment,  very  defective.  The  great 
central  points  or  epochs  of  history  aro  not  made  to  stand  out  with  sufficient  prominence. 
Kvents  of  minor  importance  are  made  to  embarrass  the  memory  by  the  confuso% 
method  of  their  presentation  to  the  mind.  History  is  studied  by  pages,  and  not  by 
subjects.  In  the  wilderness  of  events  through  which  the  student  is  groping  his  way, 
he  soon  becomes  lost  and  perplexed.  The  past  is  as  obscure  as  the  future.  Hte  lessor 
soon  becomes  an  irksome  task.  The  memory  is  wearied  with  the  monotonous  task  of 
striving  to  retain  the  multitudinous  events  of  each  daily  lesson. 

"This  evil  appears  to  be  remedied  in  a  great  degree  by  Prof.  Dew's  admirable 
itrangcraent.  Around  the  great  prints  of  history  he  has  grouped  those  of  subordinate 
Importance.  Each  section  is  introduced  by  a  caption,  in  which  the  subject  is  briefly 
rtkted,  and  so  as  to  be  easily  remembered.  Thus  the  student  having  mastered  the 
Irxdlug  events,  will  find  little  or  no  difficulty  in  treasuring  up  the  minor  points  in  thoti 
x\irx  and  connection.  I  trust  the  book  will  be  adopted  in  our  higher  Institutions  d 
Vviniur.    I  grtmtly  prefer  it  to  anv  hi^.ry  for  tin-  n**  of  schools  which  i  have  M«n 


D    APPLETON  <fc   CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

The  World  in  the  Middle  Ages. 

All  Historical  Geography,  with  accounts  of  the  Origin  and  Develop 
ment,  the  Institutions  and  Literature,  the  Manners  and  Customs  of 
the  Nations  of  Europe,  Western  Asia,  and  Northern  Africa,  from  the 
close  of  the  Fourth  to  the  middle  of  the  Fifteeenth  Century ;  accoE* 
panied  by  complete  Historical  and  Geographical  Indexes.  By  Adol- 
piids  KffiPPEN  Professor  of  History,  Greek,  and  German  Literature 
in  Franklin  and  Marshall  College.     2  vols.  12mo,  850  pages. 

ACCOMPANIED    BY 

AN  HISTOIUCO-GEOGF.APHICAL  ATLAS  OF  THE  MIDDLE  AGES  ; 
Containing  a  Series  of  six  General  Maps,  delineating  the  migration  of  the 
Northern  and  Eastern  Nations,  together  with  the  States  arising  from  their 
fusion  with  the  ancient  Koman  Empire  in  Europe,  Western  Asia,  and  North- 
ern Africa,  from  the  close  of  the  Fourth  to  the  middle  of  the  Fifteenth 
Century.  Published  from  the  great  Histokico-Geographical  Hano-Atlas 
of  Charles  Spruner,  LL.D.,  Major  of  Engineers  in  the  Kingdom  of  Bavaria. 
With  a  concise  Explanatory  Description.     Folio. 

THE  SAME  WORK.     1  vol.  folio,  232  pages,  containing  the  Historical 
Geography  and  Atlas  complete. 

From  the  New  York  Evening  Pout. 
"This  truly  excellent  work  supplies,  in  a  very  satisfactory  manner,  a  want  which 
has  long  been  felt  by  every  student  of  history." 

From  the  Springfield  Republican. 
"  One  of  the  most  valuable  contributions  of  the  day  to  American  literature.     It  re- 
flects great  honor  upon  the  author." 

From  the  Philadelphia  Inquirer. 
"This  work  is  one  of  a  very  high  character,  and  is  replete  with  valuable  informa- 
tion." 

From  the  City  Item.  ^ 

u  The  rrrangement  of  this  valuable  work  is  at  jsnee  ingenious  and  tasteful,  and  w« 
are  sure  it  will  find  great  favor  with  students  and  readers  generally." 

From  the  Ne\o  York  Churchman. 
"A  more  valuable  or  important  aid  to  historical  reading  and  study  has  nevee 
ippeared." 

From  the  Boston  Courier. 
"Ths  volumes  are  indispensable  to  every  reader  who  wishes  for  aocnfte  inform*- 
Hon  respecting  the  period  in  question." 

From  the  New  Orleans  Bee. 
"A  work  of  elaborate  learning  and  industry— a  monument  of  patient  arid  labcurotti 
investigation  of  the  Teutonic  intellect." 

From  the  Protestant  Churchman. 
**Amoro  comprehensive  and  reliable  view  of  the  world  in  the  Miiid'e  Asm  fca/ 
atfvcv  been  given  to  the  public  " 


STANDARD  EDUCATIONAL  WORKS. 

Marshall's  Book  of  Oratory.    Part  L   Part  IL 
Markham's  History  of  England.    Revised  by  Eliza  Bobbins. 
12mo.    887  pages. 

Mangnall's  Historical  Questions.    l2tno. 

Nicholson's  Text-Book  of  Zoology.  For  Schools  and  Colleges. 
12mo.    853  pages. 

Text-Book  of  Geology.    For  Schools  and  Colleges.   12mo. 

2G6  pages. 

Otis's  Easy  Lessons  in  Landscape-Drawing.    In  6  Parts. 

Drawing-Books  of  Animals.    In  5  Parts. 

Quackenbos's  Standard  Text-Books.    Consisting  of: 

Fibst  Lessons  in  Composition.    With  Eules  for  Punctuation,  and 

Copious  Exercises.    12mo.    1S2  pages. 
Advanced  Coubse  op  Composition  and  Rhetobic.     A  Series  of 

Practical  Lessons.    12ino.    460  pages. 
Fibst  Book  in  English  Gbammae.     For  Beginners.    18mo.    108 

pages. 
English  Gbammae.    12mo.    288  pages. 

Peimabt  Histoby  of  the  United  States.    Made  easy  for  Begin- 
ners.   Child's  quarto.    200  pages. 
Elementaby   Histoby  of  tiie  United  States.    With  numerous 

Illustrations  and  Maps.     12mo.    260  pages. 
Illustrated  ScnooL  Histoby  of  the  United  States.    With  Maps, 

Battle-fields,  etc.    Brought  down  to  the  present  Administration. 

12mo.    530  pages. 
A  Natubal  Philosophy.    Exhibiting  the  Application  of  Scientific 

Principles  in  Every -day  Life.    12mo.    450  pages. 
Pbimaby  Aeithmemic.    16ino.    108  pages. 
Elementary  Arithmetic.    12mo.    144  pages. 
Practical  Aeithmetic.    12mo.    812  pages. 
Higher  Arithmetic.    12mo. 
Mental  Arithmetic.    ISmo.    16S  pages. 

Reid's  Dictionary  of  the  English  Language. 

Robbins's  Class-Book  of  Poetry.    16mo.   252  pages. 

Guide  to  Knowledge.   i6mo.   417  pages. 

Shakespearian  Reader.    By  John  W.  S.  Hows.    12mo. 

Schmidt's  Course  of  Ancient  Geography.  Arranged  with  spe- 
cial reference  to  convenience  of  recitation.  By  Prof.  H.  I.  Schmidt, 
D.D.,  of  Columbia  College.    12mo.    828  pages. 


J     OU^v3U 


STANDARD  EDUCATIONAL   W0M1 

Science  Primers:  I   <  hi:\u-ti:y     By  n   I  Kotooi, Professor of 

author  of  "The  Sp< 
Analysis,"  u  Le?  11IYSICS. 

By  Balfocb  8tbwabt,  Professor  of  Natural  Philosophy  In  ( » 

:<>ge,  Manchester;  author  of  " Elementary  Lessons  In  Physics." 
With  Illustrations.    Tinted  papt  »th  covers.    18mo. 

Spalding's  History  of  English  Literature. 
Sewell's  First  History  of  Greece.    lSmo.   85S  pages.  ■ 

Child's  First  History  of  Home.    lSmo. 

Tenney's  Analysis  of  Derivations  and  Definitions  of  English 


Mtsy843  C&H 

G& 

Educ, 

dept 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


Yonmans's  Botany.    Designed  to  cultivate  the  Observing  Power  of 
Children.    With  numerous  Illustrations.    12mo.    1C7  pages. 


1>.   APPLET  ON    <&    CO.,   N.  V., 

WILL  SEND  A  DESCRIPTIVE  CATALOGUE 

of  English,  Latin,  Greek,  French,  Spanish,  Italian,  Hebrew,  and  Syriac 
Text-Books,  to  those  applying  for  it 


